


Possession

by sparrowshellcat



Category: Firefly, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While investigating a series of bizarre urban legends come to life, Sam and Dean encounter a creature with the ability to switch people in space - and apparently time. When the thing displaces them this time, Dean gets switched with a different person, and the beast disappears without a trace. That leaves Sam to try and find a way to switch his brother and this Jayne Cobb man back, and Dean to try and get off this gorram boat.</p><p>Until Sam finally finds a way to switch - only it switches the wrong people, and the Winchester brothers find themselves waking up in the wrong beds with the wrong people. And someone very familiar seems to know that Sam has switched - and decides to try and finish what Yellow-Eyes started on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

  


  
Twenty seven seconds after Sam handed Dean the newspaper article, he slid it back across the table, and said, “I really think this is more of your kind of thing, geekboy.”

Sam huffed. “Dean…”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I _look_ like I’m kidding?”

Dean considered Sam’s heavily drawn brows for a moment, then sighed heavily, tugging the paper back. “No, you don’t. Obviously, you wouldn’t know a laugh if it bit you in the ass. But this, Sammy, _this_ is a bit…” 

“Insane? Believe me, I know.”

Shifting back in his seat, Dean read aloud, “Authorities are still seeking assistance in the missing person’s case of Tyler Widebutt – “

“Wygutt.” Sam corrected.

“I know that,” Dean smirked at him, ignoring his brother’s eyeroll. “’Widebutt, who was last seen in the Pope Street area Tuesday night. Authorities advise that he may have been suffering from hallucinations, as he had been telling his friends that he was a seeing a - a _displacer beast_ , which is a creature from the Dungeons and Dragons game he and his friends had been playing shortly before his disappearance.’” He snorted, and held up the paper. “Look, there’s even a helpful photo of a _displacer_ _beast_.”

“Actually, that’s a shadow mastiff,” Sam frowned.

Dean barked with laughter. “Told you. More your thing. I officially christen this your investigation. Go investigate.”

“I think it’s like the others,” he ignored him, leaning forward. “Like the UFO, the alligator in the sewers. It’s just the same, only – “

“Yeah, yeah…” he cut his brother off, holding up his hands. “I know the story. Kid plays so much D&D he starts to believe it’s real, tries to do real magic, unleashes hell on himself. It is an old urban legend, thought up by paranoid churcies. I get it. But the other ones were – I dunno, _poetic_! What other kind of jackassery gets you kidnapped by a creature from the Monster Book?”

“Monster Manual.”

“You know _way_ too much about this,” Dean pointed at him. “You’re freaking me out.”

Sam just sighed. “Look, Dean, we have to go talk to this guy’s friends. See _exactly_ what he said.”

“How about _you_ go, and I stay here.”

“If you think for _one_ second that I am leaving you here, _alone_ , so that you can – “ he just stood, glowering at his brother. “Not happening. C’mon. let’s go.”

He sighed, standing slowly. “Killjoy.”

Three hours later, though, it was Dean snickering as he worked. “This is just…”

“Moronic?”

“Awesome is the world you’re looking for,” he grinned at his brother. “First, what he did to their computers was just… pure poetry.”

“Dean, he created a virus that replaced every file on their hard drive with hardcore gay midget porn. One guy handed erotica in instead of his essay.”

“I _know_!” he cackled, flipping a page. “Pure fucking poetry.”

He sighed, not really seeing the humour, and leaned back, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why are we here, again?”

Dean waved at the warehouse. “Because this was where that woman reported seeing a giant black panther thing earlier. And since there’s no body yet, that means our nerd friend _may_ be alive somewhere and if he is, then finding the thing that took him is our best bet.”

“Right,” he sighed, leaning back.

“What? You finally willing to listen to me and call Bobby?”

“There _has_ to be something connecting them all!” he argued, bringing up an old argument. 

“Yeah. They were all assholes.”

Sam sighed, frustrated. “ _Other_ than – did you see that?”

Dean snorted. “Sure, Sammy.”

“No, seriously, I thought I – “

There was a _crack_ sort of sound, like ice cracking on a wide river, and a small whisp of blue smoke, and abruptly instead of sitting beside Dean, he was sitting beside a snarling beast that pulled its lips back off its razor teeth as it hissed at him.

“Holy shit!” he gasped, tumbling back off his crate.

There was another crack, and Dean tumbled back onto his crate. “Son of a _bitch_!” he howled. “What the hell was _that_?!”

“Displacer beast!” Sam scrambled up, wrestling his revolver out of the back of his jeans.

“You never mentioned they could do _that_!”

“Slipped my mind!”

“Well, where the hell did it go _now_?”

“I don’t know!” Sam threw up his hands. “Where did it send you?! That’s what it does, it just switches places!”

Dean spun several times, searching for a landmark, then broke into a run, towards the back.

Sam darted behind him.

“Got it!” he shouted, and Sam, who was still a good dozen steps behind him, heard his brother’s gun go off.

“Wait – “ he called.

He hadn’t heard a crack over the gunshot, but he _did_ hear Dean suddenly howl, “Son of a motherfucking _whore_!” and he did come around the corner to find his brother laying on the floor, clutching his leg.

“Shit!” Sam gasped.

“That sucker’s _fast_ ,” Dean snarled, struggling to his feet, leaning heavily on that one leg. “Switched me before the bullet even hit.”

“Told you, that’s what it does. You gonna be okay?”

“Stop being a nursemaid, and let’s kill that bitch,” Dean snarled, limping in the direction he thought the displacer beast had gone.

Sam sighed softly, concerned for his headstrong brother, but still followed him anyway.

They sidled through the scattered crates and boxes in what was, in the daylight hours, a bustling warehouse for a furniture sales store. Dean was leaving a trail of blood droplets behind despite Sam’s concern, just pointing out that the last thing they needed was for aid efforts to leave bloody fingerprints behind. Just as Sam was about to insist that they had to at least get it tourniquetted, Dean spotted the displacer beast, and hissed, “Look!”

Sam followed where he was pointing to see the creature sitting behind a large crate, almost casually grooming a front paw like an oversized housecat.

“It’s not even on guard,” Dean hissed, leveling his gun at it.

“Dean, I don’t think – “ Sam tried.

He fired.

There was a crack, then an almighty crash and an angry bellow. Sam howled in shock and tumbled backwards when there was suddenly a hissing and spitting furry creature where his brother had been a moment before. The beast snarled at him, then nimbly leapt off of a stack of boxes, and disappeared from sight.

Sighing heavily, Sam stood and walked slowly towards the crashing sounds. “Dean? I think it got away, it’s not…”

He stopped dead.

That wasn’t Dean.

It wasn’t even the teenaged boy who had created the virus and been the one this urban legend was aimed at in the first place.

It was a gruff, unshaven man dressed only in brown trousers and boots, suspenders hanging from his belt as though he’d been halfway through stripping and only just managed to get his shirt off. 

There was blood on his hands, and when he heard Sam’s footsteps, he said, without looking up from the bullet wound in his shoulder he was poking at, “Well, I don’t know what magic trick ye call ‘at, Doc, but ye didn’t have to ruttin’ _shoot_ me.”

“I’m not your doctor.” Sam said, a moment later.

The man’s head snapped up, and he scrambled to his feet with a practiced speed that immediately made Sam figure he was either a soldier or a hunter. That conclusion was cemented when he grabbed at his waist – clearly for a gun he was used to carrying – then swore in what Sam was _pretty_ sure was Chinese, when he found himself unarmed. “ _Mao tze_!”

Gun still drawn, Sam at least kept it pointed at the floor. “You all right?”

“Do I _look_ all right?” the man snapped.

Right.

Good point.

“Where’s my brother?”

“Why in the _gorram_ verse would I know _that_?” he growled, reluctantly holding his hands up a little. “Ye gonna shoot me ‘gain?”

“I didn’t shoot you the first time,” Sam scowled. “My brother was shooting at – something else. Where are you from?”

He shrugged, attention divided between Sam’s face, Sam’s gun, and any possible exits. He seemed to have pushed his wound out of his mind, which made Sam sure he was dealing with another hunter. “No where in particular, these days.”

“I meant where _were_ you, right before you were _here_.”

He frowned. “Doc’s office. Getting a bullet out.”

Sam hesitated. “ _Another_ one?”

“You gotta problem with that?” he snarked.

“No,” he said quickly, holding up his palms. He then realized that he was still holding the gun, so as a move of peace, it was not really the best move, and quickly lowered both of his hands. “Not at all! Just remarking. So where was this doctor’s office? What city?”

“City?” he repeated, looking at Sam kind of like one might an idiot. “T’weren’t in a city.”

“Town, then.”

“ _Mao tze_ , kid, weren’t on no moon. We were on a boat.”

Sam was starting to feel like they were having different conversations. “Moon? Boat?”

“Freighter. Supply to the outer rims.”

He blinked at him. 

“A _space_ ship?” The man said, slowly, as though Sam was a very small child he was explaining the theory to.

“Oh.”

Great. The beast had switched his brother with a crazy person. How the _hell_ was he going to find him now?

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean had been standing when the beast had displaced them, but the footing where he landed wasn’t as smooth, so he tumbled despite his best efforts. He dragged a metal tray down with him, assorted medical tools and syringes scattering, and bouncing over the metal floor.

Groaning, he rolled over onto his stomach, forcing himself up to his hands and knees, shaking his head. He’d clipped his forehead off something on his way down, and everything was a little fuzzy. He’d later blame those dulled sense for not realizing he wasn’t along immediately.

“Don’t move.”

He snapped his head up, blinking. A young man, about Sammy’s age, stood on the other side of the tiny room, a scalpel in his bloody hands. The look on his face reminded him almost terrifyingly of his brother, too – terrified, but desperate enough to not back down.

Dean held up a hand, then pushed himself up to his knees so he could hold up both. His eyes flicked about for his gun, and spotted it nestled under the cabinets to the man’s left. “Hey, not gonna hurt you.”

“Don’t move!” he said again. “Stay right there.”

“Staying. Wanna put that thing away?” he nodded at the scalpel.

“Not terribly. _Captain_!”

“Captain?” Dean repeated, frowning. “You’re military?”

The stranger gave him an odd look, like Dean was asking a question that he could _understand_ , but which didn’t _really_ make sense. “Obviously not.” He answered, then called again, “Captain!”

“Right…” Dean dove for his gun, then, fingers curling around the grip, a comforting contact.

Until there was a very familiar sound behind him – the cocking of an older styled revolver.

“Drop it.”

Slowly, his other hand up, Dean lay the gun back down. 

“Smart move.”

Dean twisted to see who had a gun to him, and found it to be a newcomer – tall, muscular, with a black stripe down the side of his rather tight pants. He carried himself like his dad had, and Dean knew right then that if not active military, this man had certainly been in it. “You must be the captain, then.”

“I am.” He grunted. “Now. Who are you, and what are you doing on my gorram boat?”

“Dean Winchester, and I have no idea.”

“Not good enough,” the Captain frowned, then turned to the young man. “Simon, what happened?”

The young doctor glanced away from Dean to look at his captain. “One minute, Jayne was on the table, and I was taking the bullet out of his shoulder, then there was a rather loud sound, as though very thick glass had just broken. Then _this_ man was suddenly standing on my table.”

“Wait,” Dean half rose, alarmed. “It switched me with a _person_ this time?”

“And here I thought you had no idea what was going on,” the man’s eyes flicked back to him. “Simon, you still have those restraints?”

“You’re kidding,” he said, pale, as the doctor immediately went to dig in one of the cleverly designed storage containers set around the surprisingly compact medical quarters. A moment later, he held out his hands, offering the oldest man in the room a pair of leather cuffs attached with a leather belt, the inside of each of the cuffs lined with something white and fluffy. He would have thought some kind of cotton, usually, but based on the surroundings – he looked like he was surrounded by _cowboys_ on a fucking _military vessel_ \- he was pretty sure that it was real honest-to-god lambs skin. “I’m not usually into kinky shit until at _least_ the second date.”

He smirked. “Could be worse. Hands.”

Dean hesitated. “What if I promise not to do anything really naughty, instead?”

“You know, if you hadn’t gone for the gun… we might have been able to do that.” The Captain smirked. “Hands.”

“Dammit.” He sighed heavily, and reluctantly held his hands out.

The doctor stepped forward, carefully and quickly tightening the cuffs around Dean’s wrists, with the sort of practiced ease of a man alarmingly used to doing this. The cuffs were surprisingly soft on the inside, and clearly they had been designed to avoid bruising or injuring the confined person’s wrists as much as was humanely possible, and he had to wonder if they were mostly just kept for the restraining of patients who might accidentally hurt themselves. 

“Tight?” 

“Yes,” Dean grumbled. 

“They could be tighter,” Simon admitted, frowning as he offered the captain the belt. “I’ll leave that to your discretion, though, Captain. Do let me know if there is anything else you need.”

“I want you on the Holo, finding out anything you can. _I_ am going to have a talk with our new friend.” The Captain grinned, and tugged on the belt. “Stand up, Dean Winchster. We need ta’ have a chat.”

  
 

\---

  
 

“You can stop watching me like that,” Sam muttered, frowning as he fussed with his gun. Dean was usually the one who cleaned them, but if he left it – recently fired and uncleaned – until Dean actually came back, his brother was going to murder him. 

“You tied me to a chair,” Jayne said, calmly. “S’not like I have a lot of options here.”

He glanced up, letting out a huffing sigh. He had tied Jayne to a wooden chair with arms, his wrists strapped to the arms. He looked sort of relaxed there, which didn’t make any sense, but there Jayne sat, as though he was waiting for Sam to make the next move. Some twisted kind of chess match. Finally, he stood, and grabbed the remote. He squirmed it half under Jayne’s right hand, so that he could hit the buttons if he wanted. “Fine. Watch tv.”

“…what now?” he arched a brow.

“Watch tv.” He waved at the tv on the dresser. “Watch whatever the hell you want. Just stop _staring_ at me.”

“…what’s a tv?” Jayne asked, brows furrowed, looking confused. 

Sam took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing, just trying to force himself to calm down. Snapping at the mental patient, or whatever the hell he was, was hardly going to solve any problems. He snatched the remote back up, and flicked the tv on. It almost gave him satisfaction when Jayne jumped and yelped.

“ _This_ is a tv. Are you seriously gonna tell me you’ve never seen one of these before?” He arched a brow, frowning slightly.

The other man squirmed as far forward in the seat as he _could_ , considering the ropes, and gaped at the television with a sort of wondrous expression Sam normally saw on little kids at Christmas, or something equally exciting. It was weird – after all, this was just _television._ He shook his head, and flicked through the channels until he found Spike, and left it there. Jayne seemed the type of man to enjoy guns, cars, and tits and ass. Spike would give him plenty of all.

He returned to cleaning his gun, humming under his breath, only glancing up at the screen occasionally when there was something particularly loud, or when Jayne would let out a whoop or a shout. He was right – the man seemed _highly_ entertained.

It was a few hours later, when the guns were cleaned, the knives were sharpened, and Sam was buried deep in research on the computer that he noticed the being-watched feeling again, and looked up, sharply. Jayne was leaning back in the chair, considering him with a thoughtful expression. 

He sighed. “Yes?”

“Yer not normal.”

He snorted, and looked back at his computer, shaking his head. “You might say that, yeah.”

“No, I mean… fer this world.” Jayne nodded his head at the television, where Manswers was playing loudly, some story about how many lap dances it would take to start a car engine, or some shit like that. Sam wasn’t really paying attention. “Yer not like the men here.”

“I wouldn’t take Spike TV as the best example of exactly what a _normal_ man is,” Sam smirked slightly.

“You a mercenary?” the other asked, ignoring his comment. “Bounty hunter?”

Sam looked up again, then crossed his arms, leaning on the table as he considered Jayne. “Not exactly. Look… there are a lot of things out there that we can’t explain, right?”

“Right. Like reavers.”

He hesitated, interest piqued. “Reavers?”

“You ain’t never heard of _reavers_?” Jayne shifted forward again, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Where exactly you _from_ , kid? Core world?”

“Just _this_ world.” Sam sighed slightly, frustrated anew. “There’s only one world, Jayne.”

He snorted. “Well, sure, most’a them are terra-formed moons, but they still call ‘em _worlds_. S’only polite, really, not very nice to just call ‘em moons even if they are.”

“No, I mean… well, this is a perfect example!” Sam held his hands towards Jayne, catching his attention again. “This is the _perfect_ example. See, there’s only one world here. This one. Earth.”

“ _Earth_?” Jayne scoffed. “Earth ain’t been around fer a handful of centuries.”

He hesitated, a strange thought occurring to him. “Wait. You said you were on a space ship, right?”

“A boat. Serenity. Damn fool name, you ask me… battle of Serenity Valley and all…” he muttered, half under his breath. “Like paintin’ a giant target on yer backside…”

“And you go to a lot of different _worlds_ , right?”

“Hm. Far few.”

“And earth has been destroyed.”

“Not destroyed. Just all mucked up. But people say all us humans came from the Earth That Was, yeah.” Jayne nodded, though he looked like he wanted to ask what the fuck Sam was getting at. “Though it’s long gone.”

“Jayne.” Sam cleared his throat, then asked, “What year is it?”

“Twenty five sixteen.” He said, immediately, then paused. “No wait, seventeen. Gorram cycles went and moved on on me.”

“…holy shit.” Sam slumped back in his seat, gaping at the other man. Sure, he could always assume that the guy was lying, or insane, like he had assumed in the beginning. That would be easy. But it would almost be _too_ easy, really, because who knew what exactly was possible when it came to Displacer beasts? It wasn’t as though a lot of scientific studies were done on the biology of Dungeons and Dragons creatures, were there?

“Why? What’s wrong with that? Ye losin’ time?” Jayne frowned at him.

“Jayne… it’s two thousand _six_.”

He blinked at him. “Like… a two then a couple zeros than a six.”

“…yeah.”

“Well.” The older man blinked for a moment, then said, succinctly, “ _Shit_.”

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean was beginning to hate space.

Because it had become abundantly clear the very first moment he saw out the cockpit front window that he was, in fact, floating around in space. He’d watched enough Star Trek as a kid to know exactly what he was seeing as stars slid past them like fish in water. It didn’t take him long after that to put two and two together and realize that he wasn’t in Kansas in either time or place, anymore, and that he was not only separated from Sammy by several thousand miles, but also several hundred years.

He was going to kill that Displacer beast so hard if he ever got his hands on it. So hard.

He wasn’t handcuffed or shackled or whatever you wanted to call it anymore, which was a relief, but mostly only because he was locked in a narrow hallway that seemed more sci-fi-ish than the rest of the space ship, which actually seemed more like someone had taken a tavern from a Western movie and put it in space somehow. 

Dean paced mostly, in an attempt to keep himself alert and prepared, hands shoved in his pockets as he walked back and forth, frowning. He’d limped at first, because even though the bullet wound had been a through and through, Simon had needed to bandage it up. Soon, though, his steps strengthened again, and he just went back to pacing that little damn hallway. He was stuck in space with a bunch of cowboys, and his brother was trapped back on earth with one of the crew – a Jayne Cobb, apparently. He knew Sammy could take care of himself, but it bothered him to not be _there_ , to not be the one making sure that his brother was taken care of. That was _his_ job, dammit, and it was fucking hard to do when prickly beasts from a nerd game were switching him back to the future.

The door creaked open, and Dean turned sharply, watching.

Simon slipped inside, carrying a metal tray, tugging the door closed behind him. This was a bit of a new one – usually they just set the food inside and left. For the first couple days, he hadn’t eaten it, but then he started getting too hungry to worry about the possibility of poison or something.

“Hello,” the other man said, gently, and Dean suddenly felt like he was the wild animal Simon was nervously approaching with an offering of food. Fine, let him try and lure him into the house. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m locked in a narrow space with barely any light,” Dean said sarcastically.

“…good point.” Simon sighed, setting down the tray, and stepping closer. He lifted the stethoscope around his neck, setting it in his ears. “May I?”

“Knock yerself out, doc,” he shook his head, holding out his hands. Dean might have wanted to get the hell out of here, but the young doctor _wasn’t_ evil, just following orders. And for that matter, he didn’t really think that Captain Mal was a bad man either – just one with an understandable alarm over finding a stranger on his boat. 

Nodding, Simon pressed the stethoscope to Dean’s chest, listening carefully, frowning as he worked. 

“What’re you looking for?” he asked, frowning.

“Anything,” he shrugged, a little. “I want to make sure that you’re being treated well enough, that you are still healthy. You may be an invader of some kind, but we’re not barbarians.”

“I’m not an invader,” Dean snorted. “Just got here on accident. So tell me, doc – “

“Simon,” he interrupted.

“Simon, right,” he shrugged again. “What do you do on this ship?”

“That is exactly the sort of question an invader would be asking,” Simon murmured, quietly, listening carefully to Dean’s heart, brows furrowed. “Just so you are aware.”

He smirked slightly, amused. “Good point. Want to know what I do, then?”

“If you wish to tell me,” the doctor shrugged slightly, shifting around Dean to listen to his back. “Breathe deeply when you do, though, if you’d please.”

“Sure,” he agreed, doing as ordered. “I hunt monsters.”

“Monsters?” the other repeated. “What kind of monsters?”

“Well, all kinds. We save people, hunt things.”

“We?”

“My kid brother and me. Sammy.” Dean smiled softly, a little wistful. He missed Sam, he admitted it, as much as his brother drove him fucking nuts, he loved him. Sometimes he even liked looking after the sasquatch. “We hunt things that are hurting people. Like ghosts… vampires, witches, werewolves. Killed a shtriga once, even got a wendigo. Anything out there that’s hurting people, we track ‘em down and we kill ‘em. It’s a little weird, because most people don’t even know these things exist, or they’re scared of them if they do believe, but they’d never think to load up the rifles and head out on a hunting trip.”

Simon had stopped trying to listen, and was just standing behind Dean, one of his hands curled on the other’s shoulder blade. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you don’t seem crazy, Simon.” Dean said, glancing back at him. “And I think you know that I’m not crazy.”

“All those things,” he said slowly. “Ghosts, and vampires and all that. You really believe they exist?”

“No.” he glanced back at him. “I don’t think. I know. I’ve seen them. I’ve fought them.”

Simon frowned, thoughtfully, then stepped back from Dean, and set about getting the tray, getting it ready for him, fussing with it a little. Dean recognized the signs of a man just trying to keep his hands occupied to keep his mind off of what he was about to say. 

“Why do you hunt these things, then?” he asked, suddenly.

Dean sat, then, on the edge of the little ledge that ran along one side of the room, considering Simon. “I guess you could say it’s a family business. My father did it before us, and passed it down to us. Now my brother and I do it because… well, it’s the right thing to do. That’s what the Winchesters do. We save people.”

“ _Why_?” Simon pressed, sitting across from him, hands folded too-tight on his lap. “What drives a family to abandon all conventional sense and chase after _monsters_?”

“Because it’s right.” He said again, as though that was the perfect answer. “Because we know about it. Look… think of it this way. Say you see a bomb on this ship. You make sure to get yerself safe, and get away from it, but you don’t bother to tell anyone else on the ship, or to even get rid of the bomb. Maybe you thought they wouldn’t believe you if you told them, or maybe you didn’t think you were clever enough to disarm it. Whatever was your reason, you don’t get anyone else away from the ship, and they all die when it blows up. Is it your fault?”

“No.” Simon said, after a moment’s long thought. “Because I didn’t place the bomb. Technically, it is not my fault.”

“ _Technically_ ,” Dean pointed at him. “But would you feel guilty?”

“Naturally. Because I didn’t do anything to save – oh.” His eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh yes, I see. If someone dies because of something that you knew was out there, and you _could_ have saved them, but did not, that does not make it your fault – but it does make it your guilt.”

“Exactly.” He smirked, leaning back. “Makes sense, yeah?”

“Yes, it does,” Simon nodded, frowning slightly. “But there is one thing I don’t understand. You still haven’t explained why you’re telling me this.”

He grinned, broadly. “I’m hoping that the eavesdropping captain will hear something that makes his ear burn a little. I ain’t some government freak comin’ in to try and steal your ship, and I ain’t some mercenary or rival, or something. I’m just a guy trying to get home to his brother.”

The door opened again, slightly, and Mal leaned in the doorway, smirking slightly. “Simon… take our guest to the room beside yours. It’ll work fer now.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, glancing up at him.

“Yeah… why not. S’not like he’s gonna find many monsters around here to fight… he might as well learn how to be a pirate.” Mal smirked, and clapped Dean’s shoulder before heading back out towards the cockpit.

  
 

\---

  
 

Hunting without someone to watch your back was a lot harder than Sam had ever expected. He’d never really tried to hunt _alone_ , other than the occasional little job, but he’d gotten so used to having Dean behind him, covering his back, that he’d gotten a little soft. 

And it was this softness that the Puca had torn into.

Sam limped back into the hotel room, wincing a little when he slammed the door shut behind him, and barely even lifted his head to acknowledge Jayne as he walked past him, heading into the bathroom. He ignored the man’s shouts behind him, and just peered at his reflection in the mirror, wincing at the blood crusting on his forehead, and ran his hand through his blood crusted hair. He felt sort of light headed, and dizzy. 

_Blood loss_ , he knew, but what exactly was he supposed to do about it?

“Ye gorram idiot _,_ ” someone said, and Sam blinked a moment later as he realized that Jayne was grabbing his arms, and manhandling him back to sit on the toilet, bending to peer into Sam’s glazed eyes, brows furrowed. “What the hell didja get yerself into this time?”

“…you were tied to the chair.” Sam said, blinking at him.

“I noticed,” Jayne frowned, and grabbed a towel off the rack, wetting it in the sink, and starting to dab at the blood on Sam’s forehead. He wasn’t being terribly gentle about it, but it was done with a quick, practiced hand. Jayne knew what he was doing. “And now I’m not.”

“…you could get yourself free anytime.” He said, sitting up a little straighter. “You were completely free, weren’t you?”

“Did you really think I sat in that gorram chair all the time, when you weren’t feeling nice enough to give me bathroom breaks and showers and all that rutting good stuff?” Jayne snorted, wiping the blood up. “Now, what in the ruttin’ verse were you doing?”

“I found a puca,” he said, as though that statement made perfect sense. In another context, it might have.

“What is a puca?” Jayne frowned, starting to unbutton Sam’s shirt, shaking his head when he spotted the blood spreading across his t-shirt. “It sounds like some kind of stew or something.”

“It’s an animal,” he murmured. “Old legends tell that if you found a puca, it would offer you a ride, and if you rode, you might end up dead, or you might end up getting off its back far into the future. I thought maybe if we could find one…”

“Then you could get me home and maybe get yer brother back,” Jayne finished the thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Didn’t realize it was going to rip a big chunk out of me.”

“It really did get a good piece of you,” He frowned, and reached into Sam’s boot, tugging out the other’s knife, and slicing Sam’s shirt off of him with a practiced ease. It actually made Sam shiver slightly, breath catching, even though he knew he shouldn’t do that. “Where you keep the bandages and such? I’m gonna have to stich ye up.”

Sam groaned softly, and pointed at the black bag on the bathroom counter. “That’s the supplies there. I can do it, though.”

“Bullshit, ye cannot. Now sit there like a good little hunter of the creepy crawlies and let me stitch you up.” He frowned, and dug in the first aid kit, humming slightly when he found the dental floss and the needle, sticking his tongue out of his mouth as he carefully thread the needle. “You got anything to kill the pain? Liquor or something?”

“There’s some Jack in the bag,” he muttered, clenching his jaw slightly.

Jayne nodded, and reached into the bag, taking a swig of the liquor himself before handing it over to the other man. “Drink up, kid. It’ll make it hurt less.”

He took a deep breath, frowning slightly as he took a deep swig of the Jack. “Why are you helping me?”

“Yer the closest thing I got to a ticket home,” Jayne shrugged, and bent to check the other’s side. “Ready?”

He sighed softly, and nodded. 

An hour later, Sam was all but clinging to Jayne’s shoulders as the other man helped him shuffle to the bed, and gasped softly in pain when the other man helped him lay down on the blankets. Gasping, he slumped back into the pillows, head back as he panted. “Shit, that fucking hurt.”

“Stitches tend to. Least the liquor numbs a little,” Jayne smirked slightly, and tugged Sam’s boots off of him, tossing them haphazardly at the end of the bed. 

“What, you’re my boyfriend now?” Sam snorted, lazily, relaxing back into the bed.

The other snorted, and shook his head. “Look, ye were out doin’ the warrior thing, tryin’ to get me home. I’m willing to take care of you a little if it means ye’ll keep trying to get me home.”

“So what, I take care of trying to get you home, and you take care of the stupid injuries I get while I’m trying to do that?” he snorted, closing his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You know what I’d rather have? Help. On hunts and taking out these monsters and stuff, you know?” 

Jayne frowned, blinking at him a little. “Help.”

“Yeah.” He sat up a little, wincing slightly when he did. He didn’t like having wounds, he didn’t like being weak. But he did sit up anyway, and slid off the bed to dig in his duffle, pulling out a machete. “You ever handled one of these?”

He slowly took it from him, arching a single brow. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. “Can I get that Jack back? I think I need another good half the bottle.”

Jayne snorted, and handed over the bottle before sliding the machete out of its sheath, considering the blade. Running his thumb along the sharp edge, he asked, casually, “This yours, then?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, relaxing back into the pillows, trying to get himself drunk enough he didn’t feel the pain anymore. “Yeah, my dad gave me that when I was… mm. Thirteen, I think. We were hunting a chupacabra, dunno if you’ve ever heard of those, they’re kind of a hairless dog thing that eats sheep and sometimes people. It was eating people this time, so my brother and me, we went out to hunt the thing, and… dad gave me my first machete. I’ve kind of kept it good ever since, you know?”

“And you’re giving it to me.”

“I’m _lending_ it to you.” He held up a single finger, frowning slightly. “I am not giving it over.”

“Ah.” Jayne smirked slightly, and nodded. “I gotcha. Well, lending is good fer now. But ye really want my help.”

“I can use some.” He admitted, closing his eyes. “You any good with a gun?”

The other man snorted, grinning. “You _are_ kidding, right?”

Cracking open a single eye, Sam considered him. “Is that good, or bad? If you’re any good with a gun, then you’re even more of a help, because I’d rather we shoot things than hack their heads off, if that’s okay with you.” He yawned slightly.

“I’m good with a gun,” he grinned. “I am _very_ good with guns.”

“Oh, well.” Sam smirked, and closed his eyes again, folding his hands on his stomach, the bottle of Jack forgotten about beside him on the bed, and he yawned again. “I’m going to give you a gun, then. _Please_ don’t shoot me. Don’t betray my trust and all that, okay?”

Jayne snorted slightly, and leaned back in his seat, fingers still brushing over the blade of the machete, quietly. “Go to sleep, drunk kid.”

“M’not a kid,” Sam murmured, but shifted into the pillows a little more, slipping easily into sleep.

There was silence in the room for a long time, but Jayne kept glancing over to look at Sam, quietly, as though considering him.

  
 

\---

  
 

“That – that was the best thing I’ve done in years!”

Sam laughed softly, leaning back in his seat, head resting on the back of the leather seat of the Impala. There was blood in his hair again, dripping down his forehead, but it wasn’t his. So he didn’t care, this time. Dean was going to kill him, when he came back and found out that they’d gotten blood on the seats, but the puca was dead – it really hadn’t been any use in the long run – and Jayne was laughing, which was either a wonderful thing or a terrible thing. He wasn’t really sure which it was. “Oh yeah?”

“When you caught that thing… when you got it pinned back in those rocks there,” Jayne shifted forward, grinning broadly, eagerly, “That was great. It was like… an adrenaline rush.”

“What, because I got something pinned?”

“No,” he laughed, even more eagerly, now. “Naw, it was even better cause you were lookin’ for me to _help_.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you to help?” he snorted, shaking his head. “You had the machete, the thing was pinned and needed its head chopped off. So you chopped it off for me – you weren’t kidding about being experienced with that thing, were you?” 

“Nope, I was not.” He grinned, leaning back, running his hand through his bloody hair, amused. 

“That was impressive.” Sam glanced at him, grinning. “I was really impressed.”

Jayne hesitated, blinking at him. “…what?”

“You were impressive! I haven’t seen many people that good with blades, so… yeah, I’m impressed.”

He shifted a little in the seat, twisting to face Sam a little, and said, slowly, “Wait… you’re _glad_ that I chopped the things head off.”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

Jayne frowned, considering that. “You liked that I liked it.”

“…yes.” He said again, confused. “It’s helpful. You are really weird sometimes, Jayne.” Shaking his head, he started up the car, and pulled out of the shaded spot he’d parked at in the woods, and pulled down the road, heading back towards town. “Okay, let’s just get back to the hotel, get our showers in so we can get clean, then maybe we can get out of town. Head out somewhere else, see what else we can find.”

“Like… ways to get me home?” Jayne suggested, considering that.

“Mmhmm, or anything else. We can find other things. Maybe we’ll take out some ghosts or something.”

“How do we do that?” he frowned, glancing over at Sam.

“Usually? Dig them up, salt the corpse, and burn.”

“ _That_ is twisted.” Jayne grinned. “I appreciate this lifestyle already.”

Sam snorted.  
  
[Part Two](http://sparrowshellcat.dreamwidth.org/44765.html)  


 

  



	2. Chapter 2

  


  


Shielding his eyes with his hand, Dean frowned as he headed slowly down the ramp towards the dusty plane below. “I feel like I’ve just stepped onto the set of a spaghetti Western.”

“What’s spaghetti?” Kaylee asked as she darted down the ramp beside him, half skipping as she did, grinning. 

“Food… long stringy noodles with tomato sauce.” He shrugged, glancing at her. “What are we doing here, anyway?”

“Getting supplies. We might get a passenger job or something, not sure. It’ll depend on what the cap’n wants,” She shrugged, and glanced back up the ramp, which led Dean to follow her eyes. Mal was standing at the top of the ramp, arms crossed as he considered the area, frowning slightly. “He’s been sort of on edge, you know, ever since Jayne went missing.”

“Since I got here, you mean,” Dean smirked slightly.

“Well.” She glanced up at him. “Yeah. But if it helps any, you’re a little less… spontaneous than Jayne was. I think that helps a little.”

“Tell me ‘bout this Jayne guy. He likely to hurt my brother?” he frowned, displeased. 

“Oh no, I doubt it…” She considered that, shaking her head. “I don’t think he would. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not a bad man. I think. I mean, I think he’s a good man deep down. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“But you’d worry a little,” he smirked slightly. He liked this Kaylee girl – she reminded him of Jo. Tough and rough and tumble, better than a man at a pile of things, and secretly deep down girly as all fuck. 

“Well. I’d worry more if your brother was a pretty lady.” She grinned, and darted down the ramp, laughing as she grabbed the hand of River Tam, who had been standing and talking to her over protective, fussing older brother, and tugged her along as she ran along the dusty path into town. As they ran, River glanced back over her shoulder at Dean, and saluted before just breaking into a proper run.

Mal’s boots rang dully on the ramp as he walked down beside Dean, considering him quietly. “Hey there, stranger. You plannin’ on going into town today, too?”

“Thinking about it,” he shrugged, considering him. “Kaylee says this Jayne of yours is a good man.”

He frowned, considering that. “He’s a good man. He is. I can’t say as I trust your brother’s honour with him, but…”

“Why does everyone seem to think my brother is going to sleep with this guy?” he frowned, glancing up at the captain. “Like… seriously. Is he that much of a horn dog, or something?”

Mal smirked. “Yes.”

“Oh. Well.” He shrugged. “My brother isn’t into men.”

“He’s not sly?”

“What, like a fox? Oh hell no,” He shook his head. “I’m the sneaky one of the family. My brother’s about as sly as a brick.”

Mal arched a single brow, considering that for a moment. “Really.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He glanced up at him, confused. Of course, there was really no way of knowing that he’d just made a great and very interesting mistake in slang, because what _he_ thought meant sneaky meant _gay_ in the this century. He was still getting used to this futuristic slang. “Why? Don’t I seem the type?”

The captain smirked, and patted him on the shoulder before heading down the ramp towards the little town. “Naw, you definitely seem the type.”

  
 

\---

  
 

“Here,” Sam opened the trunk of the Impala, frowning as he lifted the wooden false bottom. “I’m gonna get you to use the rifle, to cover my back, okay? I don’t really trust this thing to not crawl out of the grave at me.”

“…you have a treasure trove.” He said, gaping in the trunk. Reaching forward, Jayne ran his fingers over the stocks of the multitude of guns, the handles of the knives and machetes, the glass of the various bottles of ingredients. “These are the tools you use for this hunting thing?”

He nodded, and scooped up a sawed off, handing it over. “This is loaded with rock salt.”

“Rock salt.” Jayne repeated.

“Won’t do much good against humans – well, it’ll sting like a bitch, but that’s about it, but it’s for ghosts and spirits. Rock salt will repel them. It’ll work for some demons, too. If you ever get stuck without rock salt, iron’ll work too, but rock salt is best.” He scooped up a box of shells, and held that out to him too. “Just in case you need more.”

Jayne took the box eagerly, but with a slight hesitation. It was like he was the kid at Christmas who was handed their desperately pleaded for gift, but like he almost expected it to be slapped out of his hands and taken back. 

“Right. Shovel… salt… lighter fluid…” he dug in the trunk, scooping up the other required materials, resting the bag of salt on his hip.

“Maybe I should take another gun, too. You know, just in case I can’t grab the shells right away.” Jayne said if casually, like it was just a simple little thing, but there was an eager gleam in his eyes. 

“Yeah, good idea.” Sam nodded, frowning as he considered the array of weapons, and snatched up another snub nosed rifle, handing it over. “That’s a smart idea.”

Jayne’s eyes lit up, and he grinned, pleased. 

Closing the trunk, Sam patted the other on the shoulder, and headed into the graveyard, shovel slung over his shoulder. The other followed on his heels, one gun resting on his shoulder, one gun held at his side, quietly, ready to shoot anything that moved if he needed to. He stepped up a little closer to Sam as they walked, considering the darkness and the shadows. “So are we just gonna dig him up and toasty him?”

“That’s the plan,” Sam nodded, setting down the salt and the lighter fluid, and started digging into the dirt.

“So I’m watching your back, then,” Jayne nodded, standing so that his back was to the gravestone, and watched the area, quietly, brows furrowed.

“If you don’t mind,” he smirked slightly, tossing a shovelful of dirt aside.

Leering down at the man working his way into the dirt, Jayne considered that for a moment. “No, I certainly don’t mind watching your back.”

There wasn’t much conversation as Sam dug. It was just sort of a quiet, companionable silence filled by the sound of the shovel digging into the earth, Sam’s grunts as he lifted the shovel enough to throw the dirt, and the sound of shovelfuls of dirt hitting the ever-growing pile. Jayne kept up a constant sweep of the area, though he did pause, occasionally, to glance down in the hole and make sure Sam was all right.

Though Sam certainly jumped when there was a loud crack of gunfire, and a muzzle flash. 

“What – !” he started to climb out of the hole, only to be knocked back a second later when Jayne crouched beside the hole, pushing the other back down into the grave, quickly. “Jayne!”

“Down,” he said, quickly, firing again. Sam could just see something moving in the shadows, though whatever it was certainly didn’t seem to like the way Jayne was laying waste to it. There was an inhuman scream from the shadows, then the older man stopped firing, just holding the rifle close, considering the darkness seriously. 

“Can I come out of the hole now?” Sam asked, lightly.

“Naw. Finish digging up the bonesy, _then_ you can get out of the hole,” he smirked, and patted Sam’s head before standing again. “Go on, then.”

Sam snorted, and went back to work.

  
 

\---

  
 

“This… is for you.” 

Jayne looked up as Sam sat beside him on the couch – well, flopped bonelessly, more like – and offered him a bottle of beer. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Drink up, and enjoy.” He smirked, cracking the cap off his own bottle, and taking a deep swig of his cold brew. “Way to celebrate a good hunt… and to thank you for saving my ass out there.”

He snorted, and messed with the cap, trying to figure out how it worked to get it off. He finally got it off, and took a long swig of the beer, curious but rather pleased by the effect. “It’s an ass worth saving. I think the world might be a poorer place for having lost it.”

Sam laughed, waving off the words, though he was slightly flushed. Grabbing the remote for the tv, he flicked through the channels, trying to find something interesting to watch.

“Woah, what was that?!” Jayne sat up straighter, surprised.

He blinked at him. “…television?”

“No, back… where you were. Not with this.” He tried to explain, having no idea how to instruct someone to change the tv back to the previous channel.

Sam frowned, and flicked back a couple channels, to see if that was what Jayne wanted. Sure enough, Jayne perked up, and held up a hand. “This! This is what I wanted to see – there are women – “

“Yeah.” He snorted. “This is _porn_ , Jayne.”

He blinked at him. 

“Porn.” Sam had never thought he’d have to explain what _porn_ was to someone. “Well, it’s porn. It’s where people have sex on camera so that people get to watch, I guess.”

“This _exists_?” Jayne groaned, leaning back in the couch, sipping at his beer. His eyes were wide and shining, still doing the kid at Christmas thing. “I really am starting to like Earth That Was.”

Sam snorted. “We just call it ‘earth’.”

He smirked, glancing over at him, then watched the screen for another few minutes, then bolted up. “I need to get laid.”

The younger man blinked at him. “…right now?”

“Yes.” Jayne said firmly, glancing over at him. “Well? Don’t you, watching something like this?”

“Well… ah… that’s not my first thought, no. But it would be my _brother’s_ first thought, so I’m used to that…” he frowned. “You really want to…?”

“Let’s go find some whores!”

Sam blinked at him. “…whores.”

“Whores.” Jayne nodded, eagerly, grinning. “You must have some _somewhere_ , humans are humans whether they’re on Earth That Was or in space, right?”

“Well… ah, yes, I think there are some ‘whores’ in Nevada.” Sam hesitated, scratching his jaw. “Whole whore houses, to be quite honest with you.”

“Perfect.” He grinned, and stood, grabbing one of Sam’s old jackets, which he’d started wearing now that he seemed to be here on a much longer basis. He had no idea how long he was going to be here, after all, so he might as well get comfortable. “Now. Let’s head out to Nevada.”

He blinked. “…just like that.”

“Why not?” Jayne blinked. “Who else am I meant to sleep with, then?”

Sam flushed, and stood, embarrassed. “Right… ah. Let’s… drive to Nevada.”

  
 

\---

  
 

Looking completely out of place, Sam hooked his thumb in his pockets, nervously. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he looked around the kitschy, tacky interior of the “residence”, biting his lip. Jayne looked far more confident beside him as he leaned on the counter, grinning at the middle aged woman behind the counter as he _bartered_ with her. With Sam’s money.

Sighing softly, he leaned on the counter beside the other, and murmured, “Jayne, really… I’m gonna go wait in the car.”

“Woah, no way!” he caught his arm, startled. “You are not going to _wait in the gorram car_. I’m getting you someone too.”

His eyes widened. “That’s – ah – Jayne, no.”

“Come on. Which do you want?”

“Which…?” he looked confused, brows furrowed, like a bewildered puppy dog. “What are you _talking_ about, Jayne?”

“Boy or girl!” Jayne threw up his hands. “They gots both, you may as well get whichever you want. Me… I’m getting one of each.”

“You’re not _buying_ them, Jayne!” he hissed.

The woman behind the desk snorted, clicking something like inch long nails on the desk. “Yeah, but he is _renting_ them for a few hours.”

Sam flushed even brighter red, embarrassed, and hissed, “Jayne… I’m going to go sit in the car, okay? Just let me know when you – “

“No. Okay. I’m taking care of this for you.” He pointed at Sam, then turned back to face the woman. “My boy here, it’s his first time. He needs some education. You got my meaning?”

She giggled, and checked her binder of information, humming. “Oh yes, we’re used to that…”

“Okay, this is _so_ not happening.” Sam held up his hands. “I’ll see you in the car.”

He left the brothel, quickly, flushed and clearly embarrassed. He knew that it was a _tiny_ bit of an overreaction, but whorehouses weren’t his thing. They really weren’t his thing. Not that regular dating was his thing either, what with his history of Jess, and Meg, and Madison… but this just wasn’t… _it_ , for him.

To his surprise, though, moments after he’d slid into the driver’s seat, Jayne all but threw himself into the front passenger seat, grumbling. “I want you to know that I gave up some _good_ ruttin’ fer you.”

“Jayne…” he groaned. “Go back in there. You don’t have to not… sleep with the sluts for me.”

“Ye just owe me.” He squirmed down in the seat, folding his hands behind his head. “You owe me a lot. But let’s get back to that hotel room of yours so you will stop complaining about all of this. So get.”

“Jayne…”

“I said get!” he slapped Sam’s shoulders. “Else I’m gonna start thinkin’ all this complainin’ has nothing to do with the whores and has everythin’ to do with the fact that ye just wanna keep me for yerself.”

Sam spluttered, gaping at him.

Jayne smirked, and ruffled his hair. “Yep, I thought so. But ye owe me whores next week.”

“…next week.” He repeated, confused.

“S’my birthday, next week.” He shrugged. “I so deserve some good ruttin’ on my birthday. So remember that.”

“Your birthday.” Sam repeated, quietly. “Right.”

  
 

\---

  
 

“This is the most illegal thing I have ever done.” Sam said abruptly, and Jayne started awake. He’d been sort of half-napping on the couch, the tv playing some random T&A, but the moment Sam flopped down beside him and shoved the large box in his lap, he was awake in an instant. 

“…what’s this, then?”

“You didn’t tell me _when_ this week was your birthday,” Sam reminded him. “So I picked Wednesday. Wednesday’s a good day for a birthday, it’s right in the middle of the week. So I didn’t get you a whore. But I did get you something that would get me arrested like lightning if anyone knew I had it, so _please_ don’t let a cop see this.”

“Right.” Jayne blinked at him, but slowly opened the paper wrapping, frowning as he found a black plastic case inside, and flicked it open carefully.

And then swore colourfully in Chinese.

“Is that good, or bad?” Sam frowned, a little nervous.

He groaned, leaning back as he considered the contents. There was a gun inside – but not just any gun. It was a large black monstrosity with several smooth, sleek, _rockets_ beside it. “This… shoots _these_ , yes?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. It’s a rocket launcher.”

“This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my whole gorram life.” He blinked at the contents.

He snorted, flushed. “It’s not _that_ amazing… but I’m glad you like it.”

“It _is_ that amazing,” he said firmly, then abruptly leaned over, fingers tangling in the front of Sam’s shirt as he tugged him closer, and crushed his lips against his, kissing him with a ferocity that was almost like he was trying to devour him. Sam gasped against his mouth, startled, one hand grabbing the other’s arm as he held on, not sure if he was trying to push him away or just pull himself right into him.

Jayne was the one who broke the kiss, leaning back, grinning. “Damn.”

Panting, chest heaving, Sam murmured, “Was that damn for the gun still, or for that… kiss?”

“Both,” he smirked, leering at the younger man. “…ye really are gaggin’ fer me, ain’tcha? Ha, knew it.”

“I am _not_ ,” he muttered, flushed, clearing his throat. “I’m not even gay.”

“Gay?” Jayne furrowed his brow, not understanding.

“You know… like two men being together. Gay.” Sam flushed bright red, shifting on the couch as he tried to explain it. Explaining gay slang to a man almost twice his age had never really been what he had expected for his life, really. “Is that not what you all call it?”

He shook his head. “Sly.”

“Sly.” Sam repeated that, considering the word. “Mm. Interesting…” 

Shaking his head, Jayne closed the case for the gun with a quiet reverence, and leaned forward to slide it onto the floor, carefully. After making sure his new little prize was safe, he abruptly moved closer to Sam, and shifted closer. The other leaned back, startled, and kept leaning back further as Jayne moved towards him, until with a soft yelp of surprise, Sam toppled onto his back on the couch. Jayne grinned, but just rolled onto his knees and crawled over him, straddling the younger man’s thighs as he set a hand on either side of his shoulders, grinning. “Hey.”

“Ah… hey.” He swallowed, heart pounding so loud he was having a hard time hearing anything beyond it and Jayne’s voice. “Um.”

“Um, is it?” Jayne grinned, wolfishly, and bent his head, nipping at the corner of Sam’s jaw, as though just testing a theory. That theory was apparently proven when the younger man gasped, arching up towards him, eyelids fluttering. “Ye are absolutely _dying_ fer me, ain’tcha.”

“Of course not…” he gasped, flushed, but he was squirming slightly, and swallowed again. Hard.

“Fine. Ye don’t want me. Then you won’t mind the littlest bit if I keep kissin’ ye, will ye?” He grinned. “Really. I gotta thank ye somehow fer the pressie, don’t I?”

Sam bit his lip. “…are you really going to?”

“Oh, I really am,” the other man grinned, and crushed their lips together again. 

Gasping, honestly surprised by the force of which he seemed to be swept along into this, Sam reached up, catching the other’s muscular upper arms, and holding tight to him. Jayne was solid, dependable feeling, firm enough that he could just hold on and tumble along for the ride, if he wanted to. But Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to just go along for the ride… the more the other kept kissing him, nipping at his lips, the more Sam was starting to want to throw himself headlong into Jayne and just drown in him.

Slowly, sliding his hands up from Jayne’s arms, he slid them around the other’s neck, forearms resting on either side of the other’s throat, wrists crossed behind his head.

Jayne grinned, biting at Sam’s lower lip, tugging lightly, and ground down into him.

Gasping, Sam arched up into him, head thrown back into the couch cushions, baring his throat. “Fuck, Jayne!” 

“Mm. We could,” he drawled, kissing his way up the side of Sam’s jaw, until he reached the soft skin just below the other’s ear, stubble scratching slightly against the other’s skin as he nipped at it, grinning every time Sam bucked up into him, gasping breathlessly. “Iffin ye wanted to.”

“Jayne, I’m not – “

He leaned back, meeting his eyes. “Wait, yer tellin’ me ye’ve _actually_ never…?”

He flushed bright red, and squirmed a little under the other. “Um. Well, not with a _man_ , no. I’ve never… um… with a man.”

A very slow, very devious grin spread across Jayne’s face as he kissed him again, fiercely, making the other gasp and buck up at the intensity of it again. “I am gonna totally take that virgin ass of yours and make ye scream, kid.”

“Calling someone ‘kid’ when you’re promising to fuck them?” Sam laughed breathlessly, flushed. “Bit backwards, don’t you think?”

“Naw,” He smirked, and ground down into him again, grinning broader when Sam bucked up again, eyelids flickering, mouth open as he panted. “But iffin ye don’t like the name…” He slid his hand between them, curling his fingers around the bulge in Sam’s pants – and he had to admit that he _was_ relieved that Sam seemed as into this as he was – and stroking, just rubbing. He seemed to like making Sam just fall apart at the seams, which was exactly what the younger man was doing at that moment, just writhing and arching under him, breathing shaky as he arched up into him. “I gotta ‘nother one for you. I’m gonna call you Vera.”

“V-Vera?” he gasped, having a hard enough time focusing on not just making a mess of his pants, much less making coherent sense of whatever it was the other was saying.

“Mmmhmm. You’re my Vera.” He kissed Sam again, squeezing. “C’mon, Vera, I wanna see your face when ye lose it.”

He cried out, arching harder, coming hard in his pants, making a complete mess of his jeans as he cried out. Jayne watched, eagerly, as though trying to imprint the expression on Sam’s face into his mind. Finally, Sam slumped down to the couch again, gasping. “Fuck, Jayne.”

“Naw, that wasn’t,” he smirked, pecking lightly at the other’s lips, his jaw, just brushing his fingers lightly over the top of the other’s thighs. 

“Very funny,” he muttered, flushed, feeling like a wet, limp noodle. He sort of felt like he’d been riden hard and put away wet. “That was… unexpected.”

“Yeah, specially since I haven’t got ye naked yet,” Jayne grinned down at him. “We really outta getcha naked.”

Sam groaned.

“Knew you’d agree,” he grinned.

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean had just stepped out of the shower, and was running a towel through his hair. Showers in space were apparently a rare premium, so he wanted to take advantage of the complete availability of them now that they were on a planet for a few days. Plus everything about the future felt _dusty_ , so it was a relief to just get cleaned.

Draping his towel around his neck, he turned to grab his shirt off the shelf when he yelped, taking a step back.

“Jumpy?”

River was sitting on his bed, one knee tugged up to her chest, chin resting on it as she considered him. Her hair had been tied in dozens of tiny braids – he vaguely recalled seeing Kaylee doing that this afternoon – and she was watching Dean with an intent expression.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, frowning. He didn’t like that.

“I’m quiet.” She said, just still regarding him seriously. 

“I noticed.” Dean tugged his t-shirt on, not really wanting to be caught half naked with this girl in here. He was pretty sure she was technically an adult, and should therefore be responsible for her own stupid decisions, but he’d also noticed the way Simon fussed over her, and he didn’t really need the doctor accusing him of corrupting his sister, or something. “Can I help you with something?”

“Is my pea coming soon?”

Dean glanced at her, blinking. “…what?”

“Is my _pea_ coming soon?” River repeated, frowning. 

“…could be. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tugged his plaid over shirt on, frowning slightly. He really needed to get some more clothes – between the clothes he’d had on his back and the few things he’d been able to convince the captain to buy him so that he _wouldn’t_ have to walk around smelling like a garbage pit or a brothel or something forever, he had only a few things. Even the pants he was wearing now, Sammy would mock him if ever saw him in these. Hell, they had _chaps_. “Maybe you should run on, then. Go pester your brother, or something.”

River sighed heavily, and slid off the bed, sidling up to him, peering up at Dean. “You’re only a shadow boxer. Someday the shadows will get sick of fighting back, and you’ll actually have to look in a mirror.”

“…right.” He blinked at her. 

“Tell my pea I’m waiting for him,” she patted Dean’s chest, and slipped out of the room, humming as she skipped down the hallway.

Dean shook his head, laughing softly to himself as he headed out of his room, and up towards the kitchen, intent on finding _something_ to eat. He wasn’t a huge fan of the dried, packaged shit they called ‘food’ around here – what he wouldn’t do for a thick, juicy cheeseburger. And onion rings. Mouth watering a little, he stepped into the little kitchen, hesitating when he saw the captain. Mal was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head back against the wall, eyes closed. It was like a perfect moment of repose, the sort of thing that sculptors turned into permanence. 

Clearing his throat, quietly, he said, “Hey, cap’n.”

Mal opened a single eye, and nodded briefly. “Dean.”

“Bit of an odd place for a nap, isn’t it?” he smirked at him, lightly. 

“Waiting for the water to boil,” he waved at the kettle sitting on the stove, bare whisps of steam just starting to rise from the spout. “Making soup. Should be enough for two, if yer in the mood.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

Mal shrugged, smirking slightly. “So I might have a job fer ye, iffin yer interested.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean leaned on the wall beside the captain, considering that. “What kind of job.”

“Well, yer clearly a man that knows his guns,” he smirked slightly, grin growing when Dean groaned, displeased. “And ye seem to know when _not_ to shoot, unlike some people we’ve had aboard before, so I wouldn’t mind havin’ ye as some backup at a little negotiation we got coming up. A trade of sorts, if you will.”

“Anything illegal about this trade?” he grinned.

“Only enough that I ain’t going to tell you what it really is.” He said calmly, smirking. “You in, or no?”

“I get a cut?”

“Whatcha take me for? Of course ye do.”

“Then I’m in,” he agreed, nodding. “Water’s boilin’, cap’n.”

  
 

\---

  
 

It had been a very long time since Sam could remember waking up with a warm body pressed to his back, an arm that wasn’t his tossed over his bare waist, holding him lazily. And in those rare remembrances, he could never once remember waking up with a hard dick pressing into the base of his spine, and stubble against the back of his neck.

It took him a few minutes to adjust, to get over his initial instinct, which was freak out and panic and run to the bathroom to lock himself in.

So he took a few deep breaths, squeezed his eyes so tightly shut there were little white dots dancing behind his eyelids, and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Finally, the initial freak out passed and faded, and he was able to relax and think, well, rationally. Firstly, Jayne was still sleeping, so that meant he had the time to think. Second, he was still curled around him, so that was a good not-serial-killer sign. Third, though Sam’s lower back kind of ached a little, it wasn’t really _bad_. Fourth, last night had kind of been… unexpectedly good. Much better than he’d anticipated.

Still, he _did_ still have to go to the bathroom, so maybe that run to the bathroom couldn’t be avoided. Maybe he could do it without the panic, though.

He squirmed forward, trying to just slip out of the narrow bed, but Jayne’s arm tightened across his stomach, and he found himself suddenly crushed back against the other. “Ah… Jayne…?”

“No running off,” he muttered. 

Glancing back at the other man, Sam smirked slightly at the tightly furrowed brows and still closed eyes. “I’m not _running_. I won’t be running for quite a while, thank you very much, but I have to piss. So… am I allowed to do that?”

“…really bad?” 

He snickered slightly. If Jayne’s lower lip was jutting out any more, he’d call it pouting. “Yeah. I really have to go to the bathroom, Jayne.”

He sighed heavily, and reluctantly released Sam. 

Slipping finally out of the bed, he hesitated, then leaned back to press his lips lightly to the other man’s. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

Jayne smirked, pleased, and finally opened an eye. “Better hurry.”

Laughing softly to himself, Sam headed to the bathroom, and took care of business before glancing in the mirror. There was an impressive looking hickey on the side of his neck from where Jayne had set about making a mark. ‘Something to remember me by’, he’d said, though when he’d pointed out that it would only make a mark for a few days, Jayne had just grinned even more. ‘Just have to make a new one, then’.

Hands curling on the edge of the sink, he considered himself, frowning slightly. He looked exactly the same as he had the day before. Sure, it wasn’t like Sam was expecting to have sex than wake up looking… _gay_ , or something. But he’d had sex with a _man_ the night before, and he’d really enjoyed it. He supposed he expected to in someway be changed. It sure had shifted his mind a fair space. Scratching his jaw, he considered his stubbled, hair tousled, sex rumpled expression, and said, aloud, “Well I guess this is what a sly man looks like.”

“No, you just look like a man takin’ forever to get back to bed!” Jayne hollered from the bed, and Sam snorted.

“Keep your pants on!”

“Ain’t wearin’ none! Come on, I need me some more of that virgin ass o’ yours!”

Shaking his head, Sam headed back into the bedroom, relieved that he wasn’t limping or anything. He supposed he’d watched too much tv or something, because he’d gotten the idea in his head that after his first time he’d be limping around and complaining about his poor aching ass. Instead, it was just sort of a dull ache that reminded him of why he’d gotten it in the first place – and he really didn’t mind. “Technically,” he reminded him, crawling onto the bed, “It’s not virgin anymore.”

“Virgin enough,” Jayne grinned wolfishly, and grabbed Sam by his middle, tugging him down to the bed and rolling on top of him, pinning him. “More than virgin enough for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Sam snorted, smirking up at him. “And what happens when you get bored with my ass because it’s just not virgin enough for you anymore? What then, Jayne Cobb? You’ll find yourself a new virgin ass?”

He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Guess I’d just have to fuck that mouth of yours. Something tells me it’s about as virgin as that ass was.”

Sam laughed, and swatted him, wriggling slightly. “Asshole.”

“ _And_ it has the added benefit of shuttin’ ye up for a bit,” he grinned, and pinched Sam’s ass, making him yelp and jump. “Actually, still surprised I’m the first one to tap that ass.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t good?” He arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Actually, sayin’ the opposite.” Jayne brushed Sam’s hair back, idly. “I toldja, Vera. Was good.”

He snorted. “Why _do_ you call me that?”

“That,” Jayne kissed him, firmly, “Is none of yer business. Now… how’s about a proper wake up ruttin’, hm?”

  
 

\---

  
 

“You’re sure you don’t need a hand?” Zoe asked, giving Dean a suspicious look. He ignored her, strapping his gun back onto his side where it belonged and wondering when in the world he had apparently become a friggin’ cowboy – he looked ridiculously like the only thing he needed was a cowboy hat to finish off the whole _look_.

“I toldja, I need you here to watch the boat,” Mal frowned, checking his own gun. “S’a rough moon, I don’t want to come back to find the engines gone and River and Kaylee kidnapped to be some backwoods farmer’s wives. Actually,” he considered that for a moment. “River, Kaylee, and Simon. So keep Wash on the controls, and you on guard, got it?”

She grumbled, and nodded. “He could protect the ship.”

The captain glanced at Dean, who shrugged and grinned. “He could. But I already chose, Zoe. So just do as yer told, for once, yeah?”

Zoe pointed at him, and said, “It’s a good thing I like you, cap’n, or I’d aerate you fer that.”

“Why do you think I push my luck like that?” he grinned, pleased, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Ready?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, think so.”

“Good. We’ll be back soon, Zoe. Keep an eye.”

She grunted, and Mal lead the way outside. 

“Where are we going, exactly?” Dean asked, hooking his thumbs in his pockets as he followed the captain, boots crunching on the gravel path. 

“See the big house over there? The one with the clock on the front?”

Dean nodded. 

“That’s the mayor’s place. Seems this mayor’s got a bit of a thing for things that sparkle, so…” he dug in his shirt, tugging out a small leather bag. “We have what he wants. And just in case he decides he wants it without trading the money he promised me for it… you have the gun.”

“Ah.” He nodded, sticking close to the captain’s side as they walked, not really wanting to get separated from him. Hell, he was on a different planet, much less a different time than he was used to. If he got lost, he was screwed.

“What, don’t tell me you’re _nervous_?” Mal smirked, glancing at him.

“I believe the phrase we’re looking for is ‘optimistically cautious’, actually,” Dean countered, smirking back at him. “If this goes off without a hitch, I’ll buy you a beer. If I get shot, you owe me a ruttin’ case, got it?”

The captain barked in laughter, and clapped him on the shoulder. “I think I can live with that arrangement, actually. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Excellent,” Dean nodded, and stepped into the house only a step or two behind Mal, thumb hooked in his belt just beside his gun. He was glad he had it back, at least it had a good, solid, comforting weight against his hipbone.

“Cooper!” Mal called as they stepped into a large sitting room, where a massive wooden desk sat at the end of the room, and a man who barely looked like he could fit in the chair he was sitting in, his girth was so expansive, sat behind it. He considered them through little piggy eyes, almost hidden behind his cheeks.

“Reynolds.” He said, his voice startlingly _small_ for such a massive man. “I presume you brought the merchandise?”

“I presume you brought my money?” Mal smirked, making no move to remove the bag from his shirt again.

“You doubt me?” he said, voice low and just edging on angry.

“Course not.” He grinned. 

The massive man considered them both seriously for a moment, then pointed at Dean. “Who is this?”

“New crewmember,” he said smoothly. “Jayne – you remember Jayne, of course – is on a bit of a… break. So Dean here is my new… help.”

Dean snorted.

“Hm.” He considered that, then shifted forward in his chair, which creaked ominously. “Now… let’s take a look at the merchandise… see what it is I’m paying this outrageous amount for.”

He snorted, and dug the little leather pouch out of his shirt, and opened the drawstring, calmly. Leaning over the desk, Mal shook the little leather bag out across the desk, little shiny bits of stone falling out and landing on the ink blotter with little skittering sounds. Leaning closer, curious, Dean realized that Mal had just spread out maybe a fistful of diamonds on the desk, casually.

“Ah. Quite fine.” The man admired them for a moment, then frowned. “But not fine enough for the price you were asking, Reynolds.”

“You gave me your word, Cooper,” Mal said, frowning. He didn’t want this to get ugly. 

“You implied that they were substantially _larger_.” Cooper sort of wheezed, standing slowly, lumbering his massive weight up as he shifted the diamonds with surprisingly nimble fingers into various piles, divided by size. “You see?”

“It’s a fair price for these stones, Cooper, you know ye can make a good profit off these.” Mal hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, frowning. “Don’t make me take my business elsewise.”

“No, I don’t think that would be necessary.” Cooper looked up, nodding.

Which is when the shot rang out, and Dean let out one sharp cry of pain before jerking his mother-of-pearl gun out of the leather holster Mal had given him when he invited him on this job, and firing one shot, then twisted, and shot another.

The guard with the gun dropped first, then Dean fired _again_ , waiting until Cooper slumped back in his seat, eyes wide.

“Oh. Shooting the mayor. That _might_ not have been the best idea,” Mal blinked, eyes wide.

“I assume he has a doctor,” Dean said, tightly, jaw clenched too hard. “S’only shot in his legs. Can we get that money now?”

“Good plan,” Mal stepped forward, and ignoring Cooper’s wide eyed expression of panic and barely audible wheezing threats that he would never leave the moon alive, plucked up the leather bag that had been sitting on the desk. Tugging it open, he glanced inside, and grinned. “Perfect, there’s the cash I need. Been nice dealin’ with ye, Cooper.”

Dean snorted. “Mal…”

“Right.” He turned to leave, then paused, and twisted back to look at the desk again, and plucked one of the smaller diamonds off the table, holding it up. “I’ll take this as compensation, like, fer your shootin’ my man. Thank ye kindly for yer understanding, Cooper.”

He turned then, and set his hand on Dean’s lower back, leading him out of the house at a sedate pace, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to have shot the mayor of the town and just walked away. They stepped down the stairs and onto the street, which is when Dean murmured, “So should we be running now?”

“We should be running now,” he agreed, breaking into a run.

Dean took a deep breath, and ran as well. 

Fortunately, they weren’t far from the makeshift space dock and the safety of Serenity, so it was only a few minutes later that they were running up the ramp. Zoe had been sitting outside with the gun, and she ran back inside after them, barking, “What the ruttin’ hell is going on here?!”

“Didn’t go as planned,” Mal punched the red button that made the door close, and swore, frustrated.

“We’re safe, right? I can fall over now?” Dean asked, quietly.

“No fallin’,” Mal slid his arm under Dean’s, and started walking him further into the ship, intent on getting him to Simon as quickly as possible. “Where’d he getcha anyway?”

“Gut wound.” He admitted, swallowing. “Can we hurry?”

He nodded. “Hurrying.”

  
 

\---

  
 

Sam woke with a start, jerking up in the bed, heart pounding, chest heaving as he just tried to breathe. Behind his eyes, there were still flashes of his nightmare, his vision, a flickering image of a woman weaving some kind of spell over him and Jayne, something that caused pain and fire and – and apparently his dreams wanted to send his lover home.

“All this panickin’ is stressin’ my sleep,” Jayne drawled, barely cracking open one eye as he peered up at Sam.

“Sorry,” he panted, slumping back in the bed, bonelessly.

The older man shifted closer to him, resting his hand on Sam’s stomach as he considered him, thoughtfully. “Havin’ bad dreams?”

He considered Jayne for a moment, frowning slightly. “Not exactly… I – well, yes, I have bad dreams, but… they’re not just dreams. They’re… visions.”

“…ye see the future in yer sleep.” He said, slowly.

“Ah… sometimes, yeah.” Sam cleared his throat.

“Why am I always dealin’ with the crazies?” He groaned, but didn’t move his hand off of Sam’s stomach. He didn’t seem to really mind all that much. “Ye ain’t gonna slash me up with knives, are ye?”

“ _No_ ,” he said, startled. “I wouldn’t.”

“Good,” Jayne shrugged, and started quietly stroking Sam’s stomach, simply exploring. “Then we don’t got a problem.”

Sam sighed softly, idly reaching up to brush Jayne’s hair back off his forehead, quietly. “I gotta look into something, soon. It might have been a way home for you.”

“Tryin’ to get rid of me?” he smirked.

Flushing, Sam squirmed a little, embarrassed. “No… actually. If I could get Dean back and still keep you here… well… I’d do it. In a heartbeat. But I figure you probably want to go home, too, so…”

“I could bring ye with me,” Jayne grinned at him, playfully dipping his finger in Sam’s bellybutton. “You’d like space… probably get along real well with Simon.”

“Simon?”

“Our doc. One who cut the bullets outta me,” He grinned up at him. “He’s all uptight and high class civ’lized people like you.”

“…I think I’m offended.” Sam blinked.

Jayne laughed, and kissed Sam’s jaw. “Well, if it’ll help, I can fuck some of that civ’lized outta you.”

He laughed. “I’m pretty sure you already have.”

  
 

\---

  
 

“How’s he doin’?”

Simon looked up from the papers he was jotting notes on, considering the captain. Mal looked out of place, in the infirmary, without even a spot of blood on him. Usually when he was here, it was because he was shot or stabbed or in some other way greatly injured by one of his antics, somehow. But standing there with his thumbs hooked in his pants, he looked sort of awkward. And worried.

“He’ll heal,” Simon said simply, glancing at Dean, who was sleeping on the little bed, head tossed to the side, mouth open slightly as he breathed deeply. “The bullet didn’t hit anything vital, but there was a lot of blood loss.”

“He need blood?” he asked, concerned.

“Zoe volunteered already, actually, but thank you,” he nodded, quietly. 

“Zoe.” Mal repeated, blinking. “I rather thought she hated him.”

“I think she does,” the doctor shrugged. “But he’s part of the crew now, is he not, and she takes care of your crew.”

“He was a black sheep in a flock of white, but now he is only one of many sooties,” River said, abruptly. Mal hadn’t even noticed her sitting on the counter, in the back of the little infirmary, hugging her legs, chin on her knees, watching Dean. “He found himself a little spot that was good for him. But I still want my pea.”

_Pea_? Mal mouthed at Jayne, blinking. 

“She’s been asking for her ‘pea’ for days now.” Simon frowned slightly, shrugging. “And she seems to think Dean can find this pea for her. So…” 

He snorted, and just stepped up to Dean’s side, brushing the younger man’s hair back, lightly. “He looks a lot different, sleeping.”

Simon watched the captain, thoughtfully, considering him. “Hm. He does.”

“What?” he glanced up, flushed slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Did I say anything?” Simon smirked slightly, innocently. “He’s going to be awake, soon, shall I call you when he is? In case you wish to have a discussion with your newest crewmember?”

Mal crossed his arms. “Are you implyin’ somethin’, doc?”

“Would I?” he arched a brow, smirking slightly.

  
 

\---

  
 

“What level of hell was my brain stuck in when I bought you a _rocket launcher_?” Sam asked, glancing up from his breakfast, which was a nice stack of pancakes and sausages that he was pretty sure Jayne had ordered for him. Jayne always seemed to crave food, more and more food, which made Sam wonder what the food supplies were like in the future.

“A really _good_ level,” he grinned.

He snorted, stabbing another sausage. “No, really. What the hell was I thinking? Really?”

“That it was my birthday.” Jayne said loftily. “And I ruttin’ deserved it.”

Sam groaned, rubbing his forehead. 

“And my Vera wanted ta get me somethin’ special.” He grinned, reaching across the table to wrap his fingers around Sam’s wrist. It was public affection, which really surprised Sam, mostly because Jayne just didn’t seem the type of man that would want to either show affection at all, or in public. But there he was, holding Sam’s wrist, brushing his fingertips against his pulse point. 

Sam liked it.

“Oh, is _that_ what it was?” he smirked.

“Yep. Ye never know… we might face a windigo, need to burn those suckers, right?”

“You’ve been reading my father’s book, haven’t you?” He smirked slightly at the other man. 

“Not much else to do,” he shrugged, smirking slightly, then flipped Sam’s hand over, so that his palm was facing up, and brushed his index fingertip lightly down Sam’s palm, then down his middle finger, quietly. It was such a casual, simple thing, but it made a shiver run right up Sam’s spine. 

“Except for me, naturally.” He said, trying to cover up his shivers.

“Yeah. I’m seein’ a lot less readin’ in my future,” he smirked, pleased, then abruptly released Sam’s hand. “C’mon. Ye said ye had a lead fer us, remember?”

Sam blinked, startled by the rapid change in topic, but slowly nodded. “Yeah… I found a witch that claims she can send people through time and space exactly like the displacer beast did… she even says she can specifically send you to the future, and Dean here to the past, like… just _trade_ the two of you. So it’s worth a shot.”

“I thought ye _killed_ witches,” Jayne pointed out.

“Complicated times, complicated issues,” he shrugged. “Sometimes you have to work with evil in order to beat evil, you know?”

“Mmm. Good point.”

“Just… try to curb your natural instinct to shoot her. Wouldn’t end well for the spell… pretty sure we’d end up as toads or something.”

Jayne snorted. “I’ll try an’ remember that.”

Three hours later, he was glowering at the wall, hands clenched tightly on his lap, just trying to not rip someone’s head off. Sam wasn’t sure if Jayne’s problem was the smell of incense, the irritating new age music the witch was playing, or the fact that she kept coming up with bull shit speeches about the dangers of transferring. They had told her at least a dozen times that they _knew_ , but she just kept lecturing.

“And it may not even switch you – “

“We know,” Sam interrupted her again, trying to cut the litany of warnings off. “Please, we just really need the spell.”

The witch hesitated, then suggested, “Perhaps you want to say good-bye. As you are planning on sending your companion away.”

Sam hesitated. “It… it’s going to work, right?”

“I have never had a problem before.”

Jayne grabbed the front of Sam’s shirt, hauling him to his feet. “We’ll be right back,” he said, calmly, and dragged Sam out of the room, tugging him along by the front of his shirt, down the hallway of the little office building the witch had set herself up in – apparently she was some kind of _legitimate_ witch, if such a thing really existed. Finding one of the offices open, and apparently empty, he tugged the taller man into the office, calmly. 

“Jayne?” he asked, quietly, surprised.

“S’time to say goodbye,” he said simply, then pinned him against the door the moment he’d closed it, devouring Sam’s mouth with a fierce, possessive kiss.

Sam gasped, and his arms slid up to curl around the other’s neck, just holding on for dear life as he surrendered himself to Jayne’s control, breathless and panting. He gripped the other’s tight hair, wishing it was just a little longer so he could really hold on, but at least he could just give him up to the other. Jayne was welcome to have him.

Ducking his head down a little, Jayne nipped at Sam’s jaw, grinning when the younger man cried out, and smirked. “Hey, Vera… think yer knees’ll hold you for a minute?”

Blinking at him, Sam panted, “Y-yeah, I think so… why wouldn’t they?”

“Good.” He smirked, and to Sam’s absolute shock, dropped to his knees. “Cause I don’t do this for just anyone.”

“Oh my god,” Sam gasped, jaw dropping.

“That was the idea, Vera,” he smirked, and unbuckled Sam’s belt.

  
 

\---

  
 

“What’s this?” Dean blinked, shifting up in his bed, wincing just slightly as he squirmed up, leaning on the wall his bed was jutted up against.

Mal grinned as he set a large canvas bag on the end of Dean’s bed. The bag rattled slightly, the sound of glass chinking off of glass as he did. Sitting on the end of the bed, sort of pushing Dean’s feet out of the way so that he could settle back, relaxing. “I didn’t exactly know how much was in a _case_ of beer, and I didn’t _really_ care anyways, so I brought ye what I brought ye. After all, I already gotcha a diamond.”

Dean snorted, sitting up a little straighter, grinning. “I don’t remember getting that diamond.”

“I’m holdin’ onto it for ye,” he said loftily, handing him a bottle of beer. “Maybe I’ll have it made into a ring or somethin’.”

“Oh?” he smirked. “What, am I the next Mrs. Reynold’s?”

“Mm. Sure, I don’t mind having a wife that can shoot my enemies,” he smirked, cracking his beer open and taking a deep swig. “So how’s the wound doin’, anyway?”

Dean frowned, considering that, and tugged his t-shirt up so that Mal could see the wound. There was no bandage over it anymore, just the stitches, and they weren’t as bad as they could have been. “It didn’t go through, so there’s just the one… Simon did a pretty good job of patching me up, actually. Only really hurts when I try to do somethin’ stupid, like sitting up too fast or something.”

“Mmm,” Mal nodded, reaching out to touch the bruised area around the stitches, lightly. “Looks kind of ugly, though.”

He shrugged, and took a swig of the beer. “S’all right. I’ve had worse.”

“You do seem to live a bit of a dangerous life, way you tell it,” Mal grinned. “Sounds a lot like mine, some days.”

Dean snorted. “You have no idea.”

“So how come you do all this, anyway?” Mal squirmed back a little, relaxing as he took another swig of his beer, considering Dean. “All this huntin’ and shootin’ and all that? What makes you do that?”

Taking a deep breath, he considered that, taking a deep swig of his own beer. “This is gonna sound insane.”

“Any more insane than you huntin’ werewolves and all that? I heard you tellin’ Simon about the whole ‘if you knew about it and didn’t do anything’ speech, but… that ain’t a trigger. What gotcha started on this?”

“I told you, it’s going to sound insane.” He shook his head, smirking slightly. “When I was four, and my brother was six months old, my mother was killed. By a demon. And my father got obsessed, and… that’s how it started. I’ve been raised to hunt.”

“Why’d a demon kill yer mother?” he frowned. “Is that just… somethin’ demons do?”

Dean drained his bottle, setting it aside, slowly, and reached into the bag to pull out another bottle, cracking it open. “Sometimes, but not this one. This sucker… he wanted my brother.”

“What for?” Mal retrieved another bottle of his own, resting his hand on one of Dean’s feet through the blankets, warm and heavy on his ankle.

“We’re not really sure,” he admitted. “But… my father told me once… that I may have to kill my brother.”

He looked at him sharply. “What?”

Dean sighed, taking another swig. The beer was starting to loosen his tongue, even though normally a beer and a half would barely even phase him. But throwing the alcohol in on top of the painkillers Simon had put him on after the little surgery was meaning it hit him hard and fast, and he was starting to feel pretty damn drunk. Already. “Because he was afraid of what the Yellow Eyes had done to him. He found out that yellow eyes was doing something to a lot of kids like my brother, and a lot of them got a little… weird. We’ve met a few… one could move shit with his mind, one could make people do anything, just by telling them to.”

Mal blinked at him. “Sounds like River.”

“River?” he frowned, considering that.

“She ain’t right,” Mal shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “There’s something in her head that doesn’t make her quite right, and some govvie assholes did some cuttin’ up in her brain, and made her even less right. Girl can shoot without even lookin’.”

“Huh.” He blinked, taking another swig. “Sammy can see the future.”

“See the future.”

“Uh huh,” He nodded, running his hand back through his hair. “Has visions in his sleep. Freaks the hell out of me, but what d’ya do?”

“Huh.” He considered that, then offered, “Another beer?”

“Yeah,” Dean held out a hand. “I could use some.”

“Are ye just tryin’ to get yourself sloppy drunk?” Mal smirked, handing it over. “Wasted and vulnerable, or somethin’?”

“Mmhmm,” Dean teased, cracking the new bottle open and saluting Mal with it, cheekily. “I’m tryin’ to get us both drunk enough that you’ll get over your ‘but I’m the captain-ness’ and fuck me.”

“Oh, is _that_ the goal?” Mal smirked, amused. “Well, ye _did_ say ye were sly.”

“As a fox. Didn’t we already have this conversation?” He grinned, taking a deep swig of the beer, and smirked when he poked the other’s thigh through the blankets with his toes. “So get over here, captain, and ravish me.”

“Fine,” he sighed, playfully, as though it was some great hardship, and set down his bottle of beer. “You gonna keep drinkin’ as we do this?”

“Oh no,” Dean grinned, setting aside the bottle. “ _You_ get my undivided attention, captain.”

  
 

\---

  
 

“…was that it?”

Sam opened his eyes, frowning slightly. The witch was sitting on the other side of the table, frowning as she blinked at them, smoky incense fogging the air around them, the weird little tray of ingredients she had set on fire still smoldering between them.

And Jayne still sat beside him.

“We didn’t switch.” Sam said, finally. “He’s still here.”

The witch frowned, and started fussing with the ingredients, as though that would somehow make everything all right, muttering to herself under her breath.

“It didn’t even hurt, I thought she said it was gonna hurt,” Jayne frowned, glancing at Sam. “I’m startin’ to think this witch of yours is useless.”

“I think you’re right.” He sighed.

She tried to come up with some excuse, but neither of them really were in the mood to listen, and before long, they were sinking to the bed in their hotel room again, frustrated. “I mean,” Sam said, quietly, resting his head on the pillows, idly reaching out to rest his hand on Jayne’s hip, quietly curling his fingers. “It isn’t like I want you to go, because I don’t. But… it was supposed to set things right… and it really _didn’t_ , and… I’m frustrated.”

Jayne considered him, sliding his fingers into Sam’s curls, and holding for a moment, frowning slightly. “Mm. Yeah.”

“I mean… you’d want to go home, right? See your family and all that.”

Jayne shrugged, and nodded. “S’not like we thought this would last forever. Hell, it’s lasted longer than most any things I’ve ever had.”

“With one exception, me too.” Sam smirked faintly. “Suppose that’s a little messed up, huh?”

“Just a touch,” Jayne grinned, tugging on his curls a little. “So I guess it’s time for ‘I didn’t get sent to my own time after all’ sex?”

“All the time is sex for you,” he laughed.

“Good point. Well, get naked, Vera.” Jayne grinned, pleased.

  
 

\---

  
 

Sam was woken by a familiar sound that he had heard probably a million times before, but didn’t really expect to hear when he was _sleeping_. 

The cocking of a gun clicking into place, safety being released. 

His eyes snapped open, and he looked up sharply, freezing to try and make himself as little of a target as possible. If he was still and silent, people tended not to freak out quite so much.

“Who the ruttin’ hell are you and what are you doin’ in my gorram bed?”

Sam slowly turned, swallowing as he blinked up at the man with the gun, and said slowly, “I have a really strange question, but… am I… on a space ship called Serenity?”

Mal frowned, and slowly lifted the gun, removing it off of Sam’s temple. “Yer a Winchester, ain’tcha?”

“Uh… yeah. Sam.” He swallowed. 

He sighed slightly, and said, frowning, “Why are you here, and where is Dean?”

“Uh… Dean and Jayne were supposed to switch.” Sam said, slowly, then his eyes widened sharply. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_ , if I just switched with Dean, then he is… oh shit.”

Mal slowly slumped back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “…he’s gonna wake up with Jayne, isn’t he?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Mmhmm.”

\---

  
 

Dean had woken wrapped in a lover’s arms more times than he could count. Sure, he often headed out before either of them had the chance to fall asleep, but there had been more than enough times when he woke tangled with a warm body, sometimes with a small, curvy, soft woman, and sometimes with a man made of angles and hard lines. 

So waking with warm arms around his waist and a stubbled jaw hooked over his shoulder wasn’t much of a surprise. Neither was what was pressing into his lower back.

He yawned, and squirmed slightly, then realized something odd.

He didn’t smell right. The man over his shoulder, holding him against his chest, pressed into him, didn’t smell like the Captain he’d gone to sleep with, and when he lifted his head, he realized that the room was definitely also _not_ the room he’d gone to sleep in.

Which is why he broke out of the other’s arms quickly, and rolled right out of the bed.

There was a sleepy sounding, “What the ruttin’ hell?” from the bed, and Dean fumbled for a weapon, thanking every deity that ever looked out for the Winchesters when he found a very familiar machete tucked just under the edge of the mattress, right where Sam would normally keep it, and stood, quite aware of the fact that he was naked and had blood on his stomach from where the stitches had ripped out, and didn’t really care as he pointed the machete at the man in the bed.

There was a moment of silence as Dean just stood there, and the man in the bed just stared at him, then Jayne groaned, and flopped back into the pillows again. “Dean ruttin’ Winchester.”

Dean blinked at him, brows furrowing. “How do you know who I am?”

“Because how else would you know where Ver – Sammy put the machete?” he rolled his eyes, and slid out of the bed, still naked and apparently not caring. 

“He doesn’t let anyone call him that,” Dean said, quickly. 

“I know,” he smirked slightly. “S’why I call him Vera. So the witch _did_ get it all wrong. Was supposed to switch you and me, you know, not you two. Gorramit.”

He blinked at him. “…you’re naked.”

“I noticed.” Jayne snorted, and dug in the duffle Sam had bought for him, tugging on a pair of jeans. “So’re you.”

“Well, I was _sleeping_.” Dean said, frowning at him.

“So was I,” Jayne pointed out, arching a brow at him. “Not so bright, are ye? Dunno why Vera wanted you instead of me, gorram it all.”

He frowned at the man for a long minute, then slowly said, “Mal was right, wasn’t he?”

“Bout?”

“…you slept with my brother.”

“More’n once,” he smirked.

“Oh fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “You slept with my _baby brother_.”

“Oh, he ain’t no baby,” he smirked, clearly delighted with how much this was freaking out Dean. “He is _all_ man.”

“Okay, _way_ too much information,” he groaned.

Jayne cackled, tugging on a shirt, and headed towards the fridge, digging around for something to eat. “So put on some clothes, idjit, and help me figure out where the hell we’re goin’ next.”

“ _We’re_?” Dean repeated. “There is no _we_ here.”

“Until I’m either on my boat,” Jayne turned to face him, taking a swig of the orange juice straight from the carton, “Or until I wake up with my Vera in my bed again, then there is a _we_. So. Dean Winchester. How’re we gonna fix this?”  
  
  
[Part Three](http://sparrowshellcat.dreamwidth.org/44909.html)  



	3. sparrowshellcat | Possession - Part 3

  


  


Sam stepped slowly down the ramp of the Serenity, stepping onto the cobblestone lot that waited below them, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Holy shit.”

Mal snorted, following him down at a much faster pace, smirking. “Core worlds’re really somethin’ to look at, huh?”

“It’s like something out of Star Wars,” he admitted, looking up at the massive sky scrapers, the huge buildings and massive metal ‘sculptures’ that rose towards the sky, which was most decidedly yellow, and not blue like he was used to seeing. Even their sun looked strange, a massive blue thing in the sky that shone almost green light around them. “It’s incredible.”

“Yeah… it sure is something,” he agreed, nodding, thumbs hooked in his pants again. “Just don’t get too comfortable here. We ain’t gonna be long, just need to pick up a couple things.”

“The impression I got from Jayne is that you don’t often go to places like this,” Sam smirked slightly, glancing back at him. 

“True.” He pointed at Sam. Now, you remember, stick with the doc and his sister. Got it?”

Sam nodded, and glanced back at Simon, who was talking rapidly to River at the top of the ramp. Though he’d gotten to talk to Simon for a few minutes, earlier, he actually hadn’t _met_ River yet. He had _heard_ her, however, when she had been screaming that morning. He wasn’t really sure _why_ she’d been screaming, other than she could and Simon had been trying to make her wear clothes, or something. Even as it was, he’d only managed to get her into a light kimono that she wore over loose silk pants and light slippers. “Right, I can stay with them.”

“Good.” Mal nodded, and patted his shoulder before heading off to meet with Zoe, who was waiting for him. And glowering at Sam. He was _pretty_ sure she was pissed he was there.

“Hi.” 

Sam jumped, glancing at the speaker, a short, spunky looking girl with a grin that seemed to take over her whole face. “…hi.”

“Kaylee. I’m Kaylee, I mean.” She offered a hand, dark smudges of motor oil stains permanently in the skin. “You must be Sam.”

He shook her hand, smiling slightly. “Yeah. I guess you’ve met my brother, huh?”

“Yeah. I liked your brother,” She beamed up at him. “He made the cap’n smile a lot, so that’s always a good thing in my book.”

He glanced at Mal’s back as the man walked away with his second in command, talking rapidly, moving his hands as he did. “My brother and Mal were…?”

“Pretty sure,” she nodded.

“Huh.”

“So do you think you’ll be staying for awhile like Dean did?” She asked, curiously, tucking curls behind her ears. “Cause that would be all right, really.”

He snorted, and shrugged slightly. “Don’t know what to tell you, Kaylee. I sort of thought that I’d be back on Earth that was – I mean… you know… just _earth_ with Jayne for a long time.”

She nodded, considering that. “Were you friends with him?”

He hesitated. “…sort of?”

Kaylee frowned up at him for a few moments, then her eyes widened sharply, realization suddenly hitting her. “ _Oh_. Oh, you were… with Jayne.”

He cleared his throat, flushed. 

“Oh.” She giggled, flushed, and grinned up at him. “That’s cute.”

“ _Cute_?” he repeated.

“Well, I do wish that you all weren’t the only ones getting somethin’ betwixt their nethers that ain’t battery powered, but… _still_. You and the big bad Jayne would be cute as two little kittens. So… maybe we can getcha back together soon.” She giggled.

Sam groaned softly, shaking his head. 

And then jumped when a soft hand slipped into his, quietly. He glanced down, blinking at River, who looked up at him with a sort of serene, gentle expression. “Ah… hello?”

“Hello, pea,” she said, squeezing his hand lightly. “I’ve been waiting.”

Simon jogged down the ramp towards them, stopping beside Kaylee, seeming to not even notice the delighted, happy smile she gave him when he did. “River, don’t bother Sam, please.”

“I’m not bothering,” she said, fiercely, and clutched at Sam’s arm, hugging it close to her chest. “I won’t be bothering my pea.”

“Your pea…” he blinked, and glanced up at Sam. “ _You’re_ her pea?”

He blinked, feeling rather out of place, sort of like he was being trapped. “Uh… maybe? I have no idea what she’s talking about, all honesty…”

“That’s sort of normal,” Kaylee admitted.

“Come on, pea…” River tugged Sam down the ramp. “They’re waiting for us, it wouldn’t be polite of us to keep them waiting.”

Sam shrugged helplessly, and followed the girl down the ramp and into the city. She seemed to know where she was going, at least.

As they walked through the city for the next hour or so, River didn’t once release Sam’s hand. She had laced her fingers through his, holding onto him happily as she lead him through the streets and the little stalls and vendors. Simon bought the four of them little paper cones of brightly coloured ice at one point, and though she was nibbling quietly on hers, she’d keep offering it to Sam, silently.

“Thank you, River, but… I ah… have my own,” he held up his little cone. 

“It’s blue,” she said, frowning. “Shouldn’t eat blue, you’ll taunt them.”

“Who am I taunting?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“ _Them_.”

“I don’t know what you – “ Sam hesitated, glancing back at something he’d thought he’d seen. He could have sworn that, for a moment, there were two men in black suits watching them from the shadows. And he could have _sworn_ that they had _blue hands_. But glancing back over his shoulder showed nothing there, so he must have imagined it. 

He hoped he’d imagined it.

“Two by two, hands of blue,” River whispered, and carefully plucked Sam’s cone out of his fingers, dropping it on the cobble stone street. “Two by two, they come for you.”

“River?” he frowned, and glanced up, looking for Simon and Kaylee, hoping he could get some guidance on what in the world she was talking about from her brother. The doctor and the mechanic had moved on ahead, and were talking as they investigated a small booth of books, really too far away for Sam to actually call for him.

“Don’t let go of me,” she said, squeezing his hand tighter. “Pea pods have to be together.”

“Peas in a pod.” He said suddenly, abruptly understanding why she kept calling him _pea_. “But we’re not… something is going to happen, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and pressed her forehead against his arm. “I don’t want to go.”

Sam’s heart was starting to pound. He could feel it, slamming hard in his chest like his body knew something that he didn’t, like his instincts were telling him to run, to get the hell away from there. And in his life, if there was one thing Sam had learned to trust, it was those instincts. So he tugged River along with him as he broke into a run, just trying to get to Simon and Kaylee, hoping they’d know what to do. He was, after all, a stranger in a strange land, and unprepared for whatever _could_ be coming.

He never got there.

There was a muted gunshot, like it had been fired through a silencer, a pop instead of a ringing shot. Sam had heard it often enough in his life to recognize the sound, but he didn’t expect for River to cry out and slump beside him, knees giving out as she sagged to the cobblestones. Sam swore, and caught her before she fully collapsed, swinging her up into his arms and breaking into a run, carrying the slight girl.

River keened, eyelids flickering, like she was struggling to stay awake. “I can’t feel my legs…” she whispered, thickly.

The gun sounded again, and he gasped, startled by a flare of pain in his lower back. Within seconds, he started to feel something he hadn’t expected – his legs just stopped listening to him. It was as though the gunshot had somehow made his mind and his body stop communication, and though he took a few more stumbling steps, his legs just weren’t listening, and he cried out as they buckled beneath him.

As he fell, Sam twisted, so that _he_ hit the street, not River. It wouldn’t really be fair to land on and crush her. 

“Don’t let go, pea,” River whispered, shaking as she clutched tighter at his hand, eyes glazed and unfocused.

“Not gonna,” he slurred, tongue seeming to have the same problem that his legs had been having before. “River…”

“Pea,” she whispered.

Sam closed his eyes, seeming unable to keep them open anymore. He still dimly heard someone saying something about the way River was clinging to him, but the words were hard to make out, like he was hearing them through a staticy radio, like when he was a kid and he and Dean would search for EVP on the hotel radios.

_Just take them both_ , the ghosts said through the EVP static, and Sam forgot what happened next.

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean had been right.

Bobby thought he was insane.

The redneck paced back and forth at the end of the hotel room, scowling as he muttered about why in all ever-loving hell Sam hadn’t thought to actually _call him_ , and just ask him for help. For god’s sake, it had been weeks, and Sam hadn’t thought to call him _once_? He was offended.

Arms crossed over his chest, Jayne just glanced back and forth between Dean and Bobby, then suggested, “So this is the one who’s supposed to get us out of this _mao tze_ , huh?”

“…pretty much,” Dean shrugged a little.

“Why the hell didn’t he just _call me_?!” He said, displeased. “It was a fucking _trickster_!”

Dean sat up sharply, eyes widening. “Of _course_ it is! Oh god, that makes perfect sense. Why didn’t… fuck. Guaranteed, it’s moved on. _Guaranteed_ , we can’t just make it fix it now… fuck.”

“And _this_ is why you should have called me when this _happened_ ,” Bobby snapped. “I woulda come helped you kill it.”

“Little late _now_ , isn’t it?” he muttered.

“Well, let’s _find_ it then.” Bobby snapped, throwing his hands up. “ _Idjits_!”

Jayne grinned, and pointed at the redneck. “I like him.”

\---

  
 

“Sam. Sam. Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open, and Sam struggled for a moment to sit up, blinking in confusion. “Where are we?” he murmured.

River was sitting beside him, legs folded under her, her fingers curled on his chest. “Space.”

Sam snorted, and took a deep breath, squirming to sit up properly, considering her. “What happened?”

“They got us,” She said softly. “I’m scared, Sam. I didn’t want to come back.”

“Come back?” he looked confused, but offered her an arm. Honestly, River sort of looked like she desperately needed a hug, and really, Sam wouldn’t object to some of the same. He wasn’t surprised when the girl threw herself into his chest, burying her face in his chest. She was trembling slighty as he stroked her back. “It’s gonna be okay, River. Mal and Zoe and everyone will come for us, right?”

She nodded, still trembling.

“…wish we had someone here to help,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

“I’m here,” she murmured.

He laughed softly, and just stroked her hair, quietly. “Why are we here, River?”

“I’m here because I ran away. You’re here because you’re my pea,” she murmured, shifting closer to him, fingers tangling in his shirt. “And without my pea, I won’t make it this time.”

“What do they want with us?” he whispered.

“They’re going to cut into our brains,” she promised, warningly. “To take out bits, and maybe put things in, and mix things up. All topsy turvy strange bits.”

Sam shuddered. “They wouldn’t.”

She tapped her own forehead. “They already have. You’re next, Pea. I don’t want them to, I want you to keep your pretty mind, but they will take little bits out, they will.”

“That’s… disturbing.” He pointed out.

“Unless we get rescued by the yellow eyed man,” she said, as though it was the most natural response, and stood suddenly, padding nearly silently around the little room, standing on her tip toes to peer through the round window in the door.

“… _River_?”

“They’re coming,” she said softly, and backed up. “Are you ready, Sam?”

He stood, as quickly as he could manage, still feeling a little slow, after whatever had happened earlier. “I’m ready.”

He wasn’t.

When the door opened, there was a flurry of movement as River seemed to move like something out of a kung fu movie, or a dervish of wind, moving like she was made of water and light. Someone seemed to have expected this, because there was wave after wave of men in body armour – but River took them down, one by two by one. 

Only a few actually seemed to get past his whirling companion, but River seemed to trust that Sam could take care of himself. He slammed his elbow into one’s face, knocking them back to the ground, hard, then cracked his elbow down on another’s helmeted head, watching as the man crumpled. 

He swore he heard her call his name, then, though he wasn’t sure if he was just maybe imagining it. At that maybe sound, though, he spun around to face it – and realized that one of the guards had drawn a rifle of some kind – though it didn’t look like any rifle he’d ever seen before. Time seemed to slow for a moment, just moving in full slow motion as he reached out to grab the end of the barrel, and twisted the gun up, hard, getting a deep sense of satisfaction from the crunch that sounded when the gun crushed the guard’s nose. 

Wrenching it from his hand, he fell into a familiar firing pose and started shooting as many of the guards as he could reach, relieved that River ducked and weaved out of the way.

The guards were starting to thin, and Sam actually thought for just a minute that maybe, _maybe_ they could actually escape. But then a pair of men stepped into the room, and Sam knew he hadn’t been crazy before when he thought he’d seen them – they wore blue gloves. They really did have hands of blue.

River reached out, grabbing Sam’s arm before he could fire, and jerked him down towards the ground. He gasped, crouching beside her. 

There was a flash of light over their heads, and the only remaining standing guards actually dropped, hitting the ground hard. Their faces under the helmets were bloody and twisted in a final expression of pain.

“Of fuck,” Sam gasped.

“Take them,” Someone said, and new guards stepped into the room, grabbing them both by their arms, and dragged them out of the room.

  
 

\---

The slightest sound made Sam flinch, and any slight change in the light over his head had him covering his eyes, wincing. Sounds and lights were _painful_ , like he had the worst migraine he’d ever had, worse even than even that first, painful vision. There was white on the edges of his vision, seeming to keep him from really focusing on anything.

The door slid open with a soft hiss of air, but to Sam it was like a roar of a lion, and he cried out, slamming his hands over his ears.

“Sam, pea, look at me,” a soft voice pleaded, and he flinched, looking up at River with glazed eyes. 

“River,” he murmured.

“I told you,” she whispered, and pressed her lips lightly against his eyelids, kissing each one gently. “I’m sorry, I am. But if we don’t come here first, we don’t have a pod to be peas in.”

“I think I just had brain surgery,” he murmured, shivering slightly.

Her fingers skittered light as spider’s footsteps on his scalp, searching out, then finally touched a small burn, which made Sam wince again. “My poor Poseidon.” She murmured, softly, shifting to slip into his lap, fingers resting on the back of his neck. Straddling his legs, she murmured, “They’re making you stronger, you know. You’ll rule the oceans again, and lead the army with a hand of iron.”

Sam shivered slightly, and pressed his forehead lightly to hers.

River squirmed closer to him, pressing her chest against his, holding him close. “Breathe, Pea. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Nothing is going to be okay ever again, River.” He told her, trembling slightly. 

She smiled softly. “You’ll see.”

  
 

\---

  
 

Sam had never thought he would say that there was _anything_ good about being kidnapped, having several brain surgeries that he was fairly sure were not covered by any of his fake insurance cards, and forced to sit through long parades of information that they kept pounding into his brain in some kind of attempt to force him to learn something. He didn’t even know what that something _was_ , he just knew that there was something incredibly important in that long litany of information that he was supposed to learn, and it made his head hurt. But there _was_ something he liked.

And that was when they tried to force him to learn how to fight.

And he only liked it because it was River who was teaching him to fight, with a fierce determination that worried him sometimes. She would ignore his frustrated shouts that his body just wouldn’t _move_ like that, and kept insisting he try the move over and over and over until he _could_ move his body like that. 

It was like dancing, and while Sam still felt like an uncoordinated clod, he seemed to be able to keep up with River now, to match her move for move. 

“River,” he gasped, breathlessly, ducking under her leg when she swept it over his head. “Wait…”

“The enemies won’t wait, Pea,” she reminded him sternly, and switched her direction halfway through her kick, tapping him in the ribs with her toes. “The time is coming. You have to be ready.”

He looked up, then took her foot, and twisted her, slamming her back down to the floor. 

River laughed, delighted, and wrapped her legs around his shoulders, flipping Sam over her head, and slamming him down to the ground over her head. He let out a huff of air, groaning slightly. 

“Shit, River!”

Laughing, she twisted, and swung her leg over his chest, straddling as she considered him, her palms resting on his chest. “I told you. Time is coming.”

“Will you be there when it comes?” he asked, curling her hands on top of hers, holding her wrists lightly.

“Poseidon was not known to be the marrying kind,” She informed him seriously, wriggling a little. “But I happen to believe in strength in numbers, and so I will be at your side as you inherit the kingdom.”

“When yellow eyes comes to save us?”

“Really,” she considered that, “Yellow Eyes doesn’t really _save_ anyone, just comes to take them for himself.”

He smiled faintly, then offered, “Can we bring Jayne?”

River crinkled her nose, and swung her leg back off of him, standing neatly, and bending to offer him a hand up. He took it, and the slight girl tugged him up, firmly, before twisting and trying to flip him right over her shoulder. For once, though, Sam didn’t get caught by her flip, and instead twisted them both, tossing her down. She landed hard on the ground, and laughed softly. “But Jayne is no fun.”

“Jayne _is_ fun,” he insisted, offering her a hand up, then ducking her leg again when she swung it over his head, but _not_ missing it when she cracked it down on his spine. “ _Ow_! Jayne’s a good man, River.”

“He’s not a pea,” she said firmly, and actually darted up onto his back, standing on his shoulders. 

“Maybe he’s a bean,” he pointed out, and twisted, throwing himself down to the ground in a sort of self-sacrificing move, trying to throw her off. River compensated, however, easily, and landed down on his chest, pinning him hard to the ground.

“A Bean,” she repeated, suspiciously. 

“Or a carrot, but beans and peas are pretty alike,” he suggested.

River snorted, and tugged Sam up again.

“If he’s going to join us, he must be a carrot. Peas and carrots are meant to be together,” she swept her arm over his head, nearly cracking her elbow into his forehead. 

He bent back almost double, knees bent with his back parallel to the floor to avoid her strike. 

“Good, Sam,” she said, and slammed down into him again.

  
 

\---

  
 

“Would you _stop_ that?!”

Jayne looked up from sharpening Sam’s machete, arching a brow. “Say what?”

“Doing the… grinding.” He frowned, displeased. “Stop grinding your teeth. It’s really… _really_ irritating.”

He sighed, and set the machete down, considering Dean with a single arched brow. “Should I stop _breathin’_ , yer lordship? Would that make you happy?”

“Look, I get that Sam likes you, that Sam trusts you. ButI seriously _don’t_. So I just want you to be _quiet_ , and then we get you _home_ , and Sam back here. As fast as possible.”

“Fine, I get it. I don’t like ye either,” he arched a brow. 

He grumbled, and hunched his shoulders, cleaning his gun still. “…wish I was still on Serenity.”

Jayne snorted. “What, you ruttin’ someone back there?”

“Classy,” he sneered.

He snickered for a few moments, then paused. “…you _were_ , weren’t you?”

“ _Hardly_ your business if I was.” Dean glowered at him. He _really_ didn’t want to be holding conversations with this man. He _really_ didn’t.

“If you woke up – ruttin’ hell, if he woke up to the _captain_ fuckin’ him…”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Dean crossed his arms, glowering at him. “Cause I’d _really_ like to see that. I’d _really_ like you to try that.”

Jayne snarled, half rising in his seat, knuckles white around the handle of the machete.

“He wouldn’t have,” Dean snapped. “I was sleeping.”

He glowered at him, but slowly settled back into his seat, frowning tightly at him, disapproving. “Still.”

“He’s _fine_.” He snapped. “…he’d better be.”

“He really _better_ be,” Jayne growled at him.

Dean crossed his arms, leaning back as he considered the other man, brows furrowed tightly. “You barely knew him.”

“Time don’t mean nothing,” he muttered.

“…you were _really_ into him, weren’t you?” Dean asked, almost dreading the answer.

Jayne glanced at him. “…what business of it is yours?”

“He’s my _brother_?”

“Fine.” He muttered, glowering at Dean. “Yeah. I am. And I really wish he were here. Or I was there. I ain’t picky, so long as Sam were there.”

“…that’s depressingly sweet.” He blinked.

“Yeah, well… don’t go tellin’ no one,” he grumbled, glowering at him like he was planning on burning a hole through him with his eyes. “I got a reputation to keep up.”

Dean snorted.

“I suppose ye wanna get back to the cap’n,” he suggested.

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Mmhmm,” he smirked, never really believing a word of it.

  
 

\---

  
 

Sam padded quietly into River’s room. He’d been allowed to sort of wander now, perhaps because of the surgeries and all – his mind seemed more muddled these days, like he didn’t quite know where he was, or what he was trying to do. He was only able to focus on certain things for long periods, and those things usually involved River. 

The hardest part now, though, was figuring out what was happening and what was _going_ to be happening. When he stopped paying attention, he started noticing that he’d see things again and again, over and over.

His visions were no longer restricted to his dreams – he was starting to have them while awake, without even trying to. The visions came most when he was stressed, but even when calm, he’d get them.

There was a flicker behind his eyes, and he closed them, quickly.

The training room, but covered in blood and gore, bits and pieces of people on the floor, the walls, the ceiling. River stood in the centre of the room, and as though she knew he was looking, she glanced back at him, eyes completely black. 

He flinched, opening his eyes to the empty room, and took a deep breath.

Somehow, Sam wasn’t the least bit surprised when he stepped into the training room and found the room covered in scarlet and black. He sighed, displeased to see that River wasn’t there, and slipped around the room, trying to find out what had made her, well… _crack_ like that. Padding quietly through the bloody puddles, trying to avoid getting it on the silk slippers he wore, he crouched where he had remembered _seeing_ her, and touched a yellow smear on the floor, quietly, smelling it. 

“Sulfur,” he muttered, displeased.

Standing again, he tucked his hair behind his ears, and debated finding an administrator to alert to the bloody mess. 

He never did.

For a moment, everything seemed fine – albeit bloody – until it wasn’t, and he was blinking up at the sky.

There was a shift somewhere to his side, and a blood smeared, smiling River leaned over him, bloody hair dangling in his face. “I told you he’d come for us.”

“Where are we, River?” he asked, softly, reaching up to brush her hair back. 

“I don’t know,” she giggled, and bent to kiss him lightly, pleased. “Does it matter, Pea? Wherever it is, we shall be meek and inherit the earth.” River giggled, and settled herself on top of him, chin resting on her crossed hands on his chest. “I read that in the Shepherd’s book.”

“What else did the Shepherd’s book say?”

“That we need to move,” She rolled off of him, and darted up, grabbing Sam’s hand to tug him up. “There are others here, we need to get to them before they get to us.”

  
 

\---

  
 

It was a long shot, but it was a long shot Dean was ready to chance, so he lead the way through the staff lockers of the University, frowning. Though he was pretty sure the trickster had to have moved on by now, Bobby’s description of a person who ate sweets almost all the time made him think of the janitor – that they seemed to have seen absolutely everywhere when he and Sam had been investigating before. Jayne followed him through the halls, frowning. He didn’t seem impressed by the plan.

“Did you know that you and the other members of your _motely_ little families are brilliant at bolluxing up everything people plan?” 

Both men spun to face the end of the little locker room, blinking at an innocuous looking Janitor, who leaned on one of the lockers, chewing morosely on a Milky War bar. “Really. People come up with these brilliant plans, _brilliant_ plans, that would take care of all the problems and make the whole world a much better place… and you _Winchesters_ do the stupidest shit, and… well. Here we are.”

“You’re the trickster,” Dean said, lifting his rifle slightly.

“Mm. So I have been told,” the man said, smirking as he took another bite of his chocolate bar, chewing. “So _this_ man wasn’t enough to keep your brother from doing stupid shit and switching them? Damn.” He pointed at Jayne with his chocolate bar. “I’m going to have to say that your reputation as an insatiable man’s man were greatly exaggerated. I kinda thought keeping him in bed all day with an unlimited number of orgasms would keep him from doing stupid spellwork. Dean, your brother isn’t as slutty as I’d hoped.”

Jayne blinked at him, then glanced at Dean. “I can shoot this one, right?”

“Oh yeah, you can shoot this one.”

“Now don’t do _that_.” He groaned, holding up his hands, rolling his eyes. “Really. I’m here to help.”

“Bullshit,” Dean said bluntly. 

“Oh, I really am. See… there’s this thing… where your brother has demon blood. Remember that part?” He glanced at Jayne. “He didn’t tell you about that, did he? Well, he does. A demon went all up in his blood, and so he’s a little _sideways_. Oh, and between the two of you Winchesters, you’re going to start the Apocalypse.”

Dean gaped at him.

“Sounds like somethin’ ye’d do,” Jayne muttered, smirking when the other glowered at him.

The trickster snorted, pleased. “Yeah… always knew you were the one with the brain here in this place.” He took another bite of his chocolate bar, then suggested, “So I had a plan. Separate the two of you Winchester brats, so that Sammy couldn’t open the door, and _you_ wouldn’t end up starting the end of the fucking world.”

“And I was supposed to keep the brat from doin’ that?” Jayne snorted. “Int’resting.”

“Well, that _was_ the general idea, yeah,” He frowned, pursing his lips at them. “Not that it worked. So now the issue is that Sam is off in this future fantastic space world and he’s being fucked with and trained with things that aren’t going to prevent this whole end of the world thing. Hm. Maybe I should have just killed him after all…”

Two men started forward, angrily. Dean hadn’t really expected Jayne’s reaction, but the older man was already leaping at the trickster like he was going to rip him apart with his bare hands.

Except that the trickster wasn’t _there_ anymore, he was sitting on top of the row of lockers, arching his brows. “Damn, boys, I said _maybe_ , not that I was gonna. Sheesh. You guys are really… quick on the draw, huh? Okay, look, fine, let’s work on this, then. How do _you_ propose we fix it?”

“Put everything back to normal!” Dean snapped.

“Well, hold on – “ Jayne glanced at him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” the eldest Winchester threw up his hands, glowering at the other man. “You just want to be able to bang my baby brother again!”

“Oi,” he grumbled. “Apparently _that_ bitch is the one you should be angry at, not me.”

“Why are we even fucking _listening_ to him!?” Dean snapped. “He’s probably lying about all of this anyway! You don’t _trust_ a trickster!”

“Who said you had to _trust_ me?” The man up on the top of the lockers asked, crumpling up the candy wrapper and tossing it vaguely in the direction of the trash can in the corner. “That’s not the point, really, I’m just trying to set the world… well, not right. But at least better. Because as far as I’m concerned, the last thing we need right now is an Apocalypse. I kind of _like_ the world. I’d like to keep it in one piece. For now. Hm. Maybe it needs to end sometimes in the future. What do you think, cave man? Your time need to have an apocalypse?”

“Which one of us is a caveman?” Dean blinked.

“The one with the glowering and the growling and the animal instincts,” he hesitated, considering that for a long moment. “….the space man.”

“Right.” Jayne looked up, then frowned. “Wait, _cave man_?”

  
 

\---

  
 

“What is this place?” Sam asked, fingers laced with River’s as they walked through the quiet, empty streets of the strange little town. It looked like once upon a time it had been a busy place, with many businesses and houses upon houses, but now there was no one in those houses, which were dilapidated and rundown, broken and aged more than they should have been. 

“It looks like a town,” she said, smiling slightly. It was, after all, a perfectly logical response.

Sam snorted, looking over at her, smiling slightly. “River, you’re insane, you know that?”

“I hear that.”

“Oh yeah? From where?”

She leaned over, and tapped his temple. “From right there, my Poseidon Pea. You’re thinking it so loudly it makes my brain wiggle as it hears you… you speak to me in ways that no one else’s does.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you do, you’re just playing stupid because you’re a man. Men do that.” She giggled, tugging him along, a little faster down the street, twisting to face him as she tugged him along. She was all but dancing with him as they walked, giggling. “But you’re like me, Pea. You’re just like me.”

“Because I’m crazy too?”

“Because you’re a yellow eyes baby like me,” she said, squirming closer to him, and kissed him, lightly. “We’re demon babies, Sammy.”

His eyes widened. “… _River_?”

“Oh, as if you didn’t know.” She tapped his forehead, snickering. “Look forward. Just a little bit. See for me, Pea.”

He hesitated, then closed his eyes, and did as she asked. 

He didn’t really know what to expect.

_River swung her leg, slamming her knee into a young woman’s face, crushing her nose and sending it straight back into her brain, sending blood spurting across the street. Sam ducked under her, as he knew exactly what she wanted next, and looped his arms around the leg she still had on the ground, lifting her right up. She set her other leg on his shoulder, then pushed herself up, standing on his shoulders as Sam balanced her, carefully._

_Then she leapt off him, flipping through the air, landing hard on top of a tall dark man in a military uniform, knocking him back, then crushing her heel into his larynx, crushing it._

_Sam laughed, and just held out a hand for the woman, eager. “We did it, River! We’re all that’s left!”_

He snapped his eyes open, gaping at her. “We killed the others!”

“Did we? I don’t remember that,” she giggled, licking her lips. “I would have remembered that. I really would have _liked_ to remember that.”

He groaned. “I mean, we will.”

“Mmm.” She squirmed closer to him, pressing her chest against his, kissing his jaw and throat. “Will we?”

“What do you mean, River?” he frowned, confused.

“Killing everyone is boring,” she said lightly, and kissed him on the lips, gently. “Ask Jayne, there are so many more fun things to do.”

“What do you want to do?” He asked, just brushing his fingers lightly over River’s long hair, swallowing. “River… we should be trying to find a way out of here. We could do that. Together, we could get the hell out of here.”

“Hell is right.” She stepped back, the fingers of both hands laced with his again. 

“River?”

“I don’t want the world to fall down around our ears,” she considered him. “Not alone. You have Hades and Zeus waiting for you. They’d be most disappointed if we failed to bring them to you, my loving Poseidon.”

“Dean and Jayne?” he guessed, softly.

“Naturally.” She giggled, clambering _up_ his back, laughing when Sam tried to help her up, and settled on his shoulders, crossing her ankles in front of his collarbone, curling herself over his head, hugging his forehead lightly. “Mmm, cute little devil boy, my good little sea god. Forward, knight!”

Sam rolled his eyes, and curled his fingers over her ankles, obediently carrying her down the street.

River giggled as they walked, wriggling her bare toes as they walked, stroking his curls lightly as they did. “Sam?” She asked, softly, still stroking his hair.

“Mmhmm?”

“Do you know me?”

“Of course I know you, River. You’re the only one who’s kept me _sane_ for the last few weeks. Without you I would have given up and freaked out a long time ago.” He shook his head, trying to see the girl from where he was, but it was impossible, because of the angle she had sat herself on his shoulders at. “River, they’ve been cutting into my brains, and taking parts out, and putting more pieces in, and… I don’t even know what the _hell_ they’ve done to me, or why, but they’re… they’ve messed with me so much I don’t even know who _I_ am anymore. But you… you I know!”

She considered that, thoughtfully, brushing her fingertips lightly across his forehead and brows. “Are you scared of me?”

“River, dear… you’re my lifeline.”

“Until you get Hades and Zeus back,” she murmured. “Hades will want his love of his life, and Zeus will want his brother at his side again. And then little stupid Artemis goes back to her moon and her hunts.”

“ _River_.” Sam looped his hands under her thighs, and lifted her right off of his shoulders, twisting to brace her on his hips, instead, holding her. She looped her legs around his waist, holding onto him, her fingers curling in the back of his hair, considering him. “I can’t forget you.”

“The sea forgets all but his brother and the lord of hell.”

“No,” he said firmly, insistent. “ _River_.”

The girl bit her lip, lifting her eyes finally to meet his, stroking his hair, softly. “Promise?”

“River, just because I kind of like having sex with Jayne doesn’t mean that you and I aren’t… well… peas in a pod.”

River giggled.

“Don’t suppose you want to be a pea in a pod with a carrot tossed in there too, do you?” he asked, flushed a little. “You know… a nice little vegetable plate?”

She considered that seriously, still stroking his forehead gently. 

“River?” he asked softly.

“Shush little Poseidon, let Artemis think. I have to consider this one.” She tangled her fingers in his curls, thoughtfully, then said abruptly, “I shouldn’t have to break my vows would I?”

“…depends on what vow that was?” He flushed.

“I don’t terribly wish to bear the children of _death_.” She rolled her eyes.

Sam blinked at her, then yelped, flushed. “Um… no. No. You don’t have to sleep with Jayne. How about… just… I do the sleeping with Jayne part. And you can… be… part of whatever else you want.”

River frowned, pouting slightly, and played with the collar of the hospital scrubs he was still wearing. “I want to break my vows if it’s with you. After all, I’m made special by a demon, special for a war, and you’re made special for the same war, and maybe a general is only as good as the general they’re with.”

“That _almost_ made sense.” He blinked at the girl.

She giggled, and kissed him again. “The others are waiting. Shall we kill them now, or change your visions and flee for the gods instead?”

Sam hesitated, then whispered, “For the gods.”

River swung her legs down off of his waist, standing in front of him, then laced her fingers with his, again. “Come, to the west. The west is beautiful and strong and there is an angel there who loves us.”

“Is that so?” he smirked.

“Yes. And once we sing the right song to us, he will strike with his brother’s stolen hammer to send the yellow eyed demon to the hills, and we will dance with a new devil in the moonlight.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughed, and followed her. She was crazy, and was probably was leading him randomly out into the desert, but there was one thing he had learned to do while trapped in that damn hospital school military academy thing. Whatever it was, he’d been trapped and forced to trust someone – and that someone had been River. She could have been leading him into the middle of a Mexican standoff, and he still would have done it. 

He just really hoped the little woman didn’t lead him to something _really_ terrible. Like drugs, or some kind of other addiction. He was kind of afraid he’d do it anyway, just because she told him to, and he trusted her.

  
 

\---

  
 

Sam picked his way through the rocks on the hill, frowning as he tried to avoid some loose gravel. “River? Where are we going?”

“I thought you trusted me!” she called, laughing softly.

“Of course I do,” he muttered, flushed, still following her. He couldn’t seem to move quite as well as her – even picking her way over rocks and sticks, River seemed to move like she was performing ballet. She twisted so that she was walking backwards, still looking at him, and smiled.

“You feel like yourself again.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, reaching out to catch her hand as they walked. It was entirely possible that she’d be just fine walking along the edge of the little ledge they were on and never fall down the cliff – if anyone could do it, it was probably River – but there was a level of fear there. He didn’t want to lose her, maybe. It was still sometimes hard to work out his thoughts.

She tapped her own forehead. “You feel like yourself again.”

Sam frowned, trying to figure out what she meant. Then it occurred to him that he _was_ trying to figure out what she meant. He’d been sort of taking her words at face value most of the time. His brain didn’t feel any less scrambled and broken, but some of the _fuzziness_ that had clouded it was clearing, and he was finding it a little easier to focus on what he was thinking. “What happened?” 

“There’s things in the food.” She wriggled her fingers. “Little wriggling things in the mash that sneak into your mind and make you stupid and slow and compliant.”

“They had me on _drugs_.” He gaped at her.

“Quiet Sammy is a sad pea. My pea should be angry and rage, raging at the dying of the light.” She giggled, and hung on his arm. “Do you feel more like my roaring Poseidon now?”

He straightened his spine. “Why are we running away, River?”

“To not give the smug son of a yellow eyed bitch the satisfaction of participating in his game,” She said, sternly, looking up at him. There was a strange, sharp sort of lucidity in those dark eyes, a genuine understanding of what was going on around them. Hell, Sam thought, seeing that expression, she might know more about what was going on than he did, crazy or no. “If we kill everyone the way he wants, then we have to open the gates and let loose the armies of hell. And _that_ will start the end of the whole world. Whole every world. The whole shiny thing will get lost in a swarm of black smoke and angry evil gods.”

“How do you know this, River?” he stroked her hair, quietly, stepping closer to her chest. He just wanted to be closer to her, to feel the startling warmth that radiated from her skin. She was the closest thing he had to safety, now. If Dean were here, he’d step close to him. 

“He’s told me.” She tapped herself on her temple, leaning into Sam. “He came to the Academy when I first went there and told me that I should kill. His little wriggly slippery eel mind told me more than he meant to. The end, that’s what he wants, hell on earth and demons dancing about among the people, eating them up like little snacks with legs. Life is suffering and hell and pain, my pea, and it doesn’t need to be worse.”

“You don’t just want it wiped clean, and start from scratch?” he joked weakly.

“Not by fire.” She tugged him forward again, humming softly. “Come. If we don’t dance now, he will find us, and tell us to kill kill kill again.”

“If we just had the gun,” he muttered. “If we had the Colt, we could kill him.”

“If we just had the gun,” she called back, sing songy, “You could open the gate without having to kill anyone. And wouldn’t _that_ be lovely fun, ripping open the gates of hell and letting them all run wild and mad over the earth. It was a _key_.”

“River?”

“Oh! They’re singing!” She perked up, a wide smile spreading across her face. “They’re singing our song for us, Sammy, can’t you hear it?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Shh, silence,” she murmured, quietly, holding up a hand to him. “Be still and let them sing.”

He closed his eyes, and as he stood, he finally realized that she didn’t mean actual _singing_ , but that the longer he stood there, the more he realized he could feel a very faint trembling under his feet, as though there were thousands of bees buzzing just an inch below the surface, and at the edges of his senses, a light whiff of sulfur. “Why are they singing?”

“We’re almost at the gate,” she murmured. “We slid past the Thermopile Pass, and now we’re free of the battle.”

“Battle?”

“Don’t you _see_ it, Sammy?” She reached up to press her fingers against his forehead. “Isn’t that the point of those powers? Use them?”

He squeezed his eyes tightly, and let his senses reach beyond _him_ , his mind slipping out into the field, then beyond him, beyond the field. He didn’t exactly know _what_ he was doing, not really, but it seemed like a kind of instinct, power slipping through his body, his heart pounding hard in his chest. It was like his visions, but it didn’t hurt as much – which was a huge relief. But as he reached out, his mind seemed to know where to go, until he swore, for a moment, that he was standing in the middle of a crowd of people, some twenty – twenty five young people, his age. Two of them, dressed in hospital scrubs, he recognized from the Academy. A couple were dressed in military style gear, and four were wearing fine silks that one would expect to see on a Companion. 

And they were all fighting, for their lives, against an absolute sea of men and women who stared out at them with jet black eyes. 

As another and another young person dropped, he looked to the side to realize a man with familiar golden eyes was standing there, watching and laughing. But the moment he felt Sam’s eyes on him, those golden eyes flicked to his, boring into him as though he could see Sam’s actual body, not just his mind.

Snapping his eyes open, Sam gasped, back to himself.

“You see?” She purred. “We missed the battle. We’re the smart ones, Sam.”

“Yellow eyes!” he gasped. “He knows we’re here!”

“Then we just have to get there before he does,” she said, taking his hand, and breaking into a run.

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean and Jayne were still sniping at each other when the Trickster suddenly held up his hands, and said abruptly, “Something’s changed.”

The two men stopped in their argument – they’d been near to fisticuffs, really – and both turned to look up at the man sitting on the top of the lockers. “Yeah, no shit,” Dean said, firmly. “You sent me to the fucking future and now my baby brother is running around in space.”

He gave Dean a dull look, like _How have you managed to actually survive and not choke on your own tongue by now_? and slid off the lockers, digging another chocolate bar out of his Mary Poppin’s bag like pocket. He seemed to have an innumerable amount of varied chocolate bars in that shirt pocket of his. Peeling the paper back of it, he took a bite of it, then pointed at Jayne. “How did Sam try to get you back to the future? How’d he do it?”

“A witch,” he said, shrugging. 

“A witch,” The Trickster repeated, frowning. “Witches don’t have that kinda power… dammit. Look, he had to have had help. Someone had to have told him.”

“Who is _him_?” Dean glowered at him.

He glanced over at Dean, taking another bite of his Baby Ruth bar, chewing slowly, considering him. “Azazel.”

“Who?” he raised his brows.

“Oh come on, you’ve been researching this bastard your whole life, how do you not know this already?” The Trickster threw up his hands. “ _Azazel_! The yellow eyed demon, come on. Man. Look, demons can’t time travel. So someone has to have told him when and where to start making more kids like he did with Sam. Son of a bitch. Where was that witch?”

Jayne blinked at him. “Where?”

“Yes, genius,” He rolled his eyes. “ _Where_ was that witch?”

“Boston,” he frowned. “I think that was what Vera called it. Boston.”

“Where _in_ Boston?”

“At an office building. Abandoned building.” He shrugged. “On… what was the gorram street called…”

“Come on, cave man,” he growled. 

“Milk Street,” he said, finally, holding up a hand.

His eyes took on a faraway look for a moment, then they narrowed, hard, and he snapped, “Son of a _bitch_!”

Dean arched a brow. “So what, now we’re going to take care of this?”

“Yes,” he nodded, and started walking towards them. 

Then abruptly, he was walking _past_ them, but it wasn’t in the same place. They were standing in the hallway of a large, seemingly abandoned office building, thrown into shadows by the lack of lighting, only the streetlights outside shining through the windows seeming to provide any light. Both Dean and Jayne looked around, wildly, startled, and finally Dean yelped, “What the _fuck_ man?!”

“No time for waiting.” He shrugged, and waved, idly at them. “Come on, kids. We need to deal with this.”

“Deal with _what_?” Jayne snapped, still confused.

“With the one that’s telling on us,” he pushed the door open, marching into the same office that Jayne had seen the witch in with Sam before.

It looked nothing like it used to. All of the cheap, shiny gypsy caravan sort of crap that had been draped over the walls were gone – the beads, the brightly coloured curtains, the little paper lanterns, all of that was gone. Instead, the simple grey painted room was empty except for just a large wooden table and a single hanging bare light bulb. And sitting on the table was a familiar red headed woman – only she wasn’t wearing a ridiculous dress covered with beads and shawls, she was just dressed in a pair of jeans and a neat sweater, long red hair neat and straight this time. She smirked.

The trickster drew up short, looking surprised for all of a moment, then grinned broadly, and stepped forward. “Hello, Anna. You’re looking good.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” she said loftily. 

“For someone selling their old friends out to demons,” he added, shrugging. “When d’ya get your grace back? You look… _different_ with it.”

She smirked, and pointed at Dean. “He helped me get it back. Or he will, anyway.”

“Mm,” the Trickster – apparently called Gabriel – smirked, and nodded, glancing back at the two men, considering Dean for just a moment longer. “You know, Anna, I had a great plan. A _great_ plan. Send Dean to the future, and we don’t have the righteous man. Problem solved even if Sam _does_ get the gate open. But you _switched_ them. And told Azazel.”

“He was our brother once too, Gabriel,” she just smiled, serenely. 

“It was _such_ a good plan,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “Seriously, though. What has Azazel got? That good of an employee benefits plan? Really? More vacation days, maybe? Higher pay grade? So what, now you put Sam in the future, to open the gate – then, not now – and to let him run around with a space slut that he _thinks_ is his friend?”

“You have always been very _dramatic_ , haven’t you?” Anna leaned back, considering him. “Gabriel, the world is full of humans who keep making things worse. So it’s time we let the world end. Let them go to heaven or hell or wherever it is they’re meant to go. It’s time we settle it out, Gabriel.”

“Maybe,” he frowned. “But I rather _like_ the world. It’s not much fun without the humans in it, really.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Gabriel…”

“So what, you found out what I did, went and told Azazel to postpone the plan, then came back to switch them?”

“In a way,” she shrugged quietly, nodding. “But I’m from the future, Gabriel. I’m not _your_ Anna, she hasn’t managed to find her grace yet. I’m from _his_ time,” she nodded at Jayne. “And it has gone completely downhill. They need an apocalypse.”

“But it isn’t going to happen without the Righteous Man,” he took a step closer, pointing at her. “And Dean’s staying right here.”

“I’m not a righteous man,” Dean glanced at him, frowning.

“It’s a title,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Not a thing that you are, or do, or whatever. The breaking of the Righteous Man in hell is the first of the sixty six seals… we don’t want to bust those, or we _will_ be starting the damn apocalypse.”

“We have a Righteous Man,” she said, loftily, an almost devious smirk on her face. “We’re thinking Mal Reynolds will work nicely. And when Alistair breaks him in hell, I daresay it _will_ be beautiful.”

“You don’t fucking get to – “ Dean started forward, angrily, ready to rip this woman’s head off.

The Trickster threw up an arm, blocking Dean, smirking slightly. “Hold up there, Tiger. See, she’s forgotten one very important thing, which is that I’m the mother fucking Trickster.” He smirked. “Bitch. And I’ve _always_ got another plan cooking. See, there’s a fatal flaw in her timing.”

Anna sat up a little, frowning sharply. “Gabriel, what are you – “

“Dean finds your grace, huh? Not anymore.”

Abruptly, neither Dean nor Anna was _there_. There was no flash of light, no bang, no cracking sound like with the Displacer beast. There was no smell of sulfur, no indication of anything, really. Just one moment, Dean was standing just behind the Trickster, looking like he was about to push forward and stab the redhead, and then the next moment neither the man nor his possible target were there. 

“What the ruttin’ hell?!” Jayne bolted forward, startled. “What’d ye do?!”

Gabriel turned lazily, considering Jayne. “She needs the grace for her powers. If Dean goes _back_ to your time, and waits there, then there’s no one to find her grace. Oops. Maybe she _should_ have thought of that before she admitted that he found it for her. She may be brilliant on the battle field, but… I think she’s a shit tactician.”

“Well, where the hell _is_ he?”

“Actually, on a field just outside of where Sam and River are about to show up.” The Trickster held up a hand for a moment, then said, suddenly, turned to him and asked, “What do you know about fighting demons?”

“Holy water?” he suggested. 

“Yeah, that’s one.” Gabriel grinned, slowly. “Let me teach you another trick.”

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean nearly fell when he landed in the middle of a cobblestone pavilion in the centre of a large, grassy field. He swore, catching himself quickly with his well ingrained hunting instincts, and looked up, angrily. “I fucking _hate_ when you do that!” he howled at the sky, as though Gabriel would be likely to hear him.

Straightening himself up, he kicked at a large square stone in the centre of the little plot, and shook his head, looking around. “Dammit.”

“ _Dean_?”

His head snapped up, eyes widening as he saw his brother, standing in the long grass beyond the cobblestone clearing. He was as tall and gangly as ever, but his hair seemed even more unruly and curly, and he was thinner. Dressed in bloody hospital scrubs and silk slippers, Sam abruptly broke his fingers free from the girl he was walking with, and threw himself forward, throwing his arms around Dean, lifting him right off the stones as he hugged him tightly. Dean laughed, hugging him back, more relieved than he thought he really _could_ have been to see Sam. 

“God, you bitch, I was starting to think I’d never see you again…”

Sam laughed, breathlessly, holding him close and tight. “Dean, thank god… how did you get here?”

“Trickster,” he shook his head, laughing softly when Sam set him back down, grinning up at him. on a normal day, he might have complained about being manhandled like a rag doll and picked up and tossed about, but right now, he didn’t really care. He had _Sam_ back, and that was what mattered. “Believe it or not.”

“…the Trickster.” He repeated.

“Yeah,” he grinned, laughing softly, then leaned over to look past Sam at the girl behind him. “Why are you hanging out with River?”

Sam glanced back at the girl, biting his lip. “Did Simon ever tell you anything about the whole… the government cutting into River’s brain and messing with things?”

“He mentioned it, yeah,” he nodded, eyes still on the girl. Something seemed off about the way she was standing, the way she was looking at him.

“It’s because she’s a yellow eyed kid, like me, Dean.” He said softly. And seemed to sort of expect the way his brother swore violently and just sighed softly. “Yeah. The yellow eyed demon is making kids like me again. And River’s one of them, and… the government… is trying to make the yellow eyes powers stronger. A lot stronger. They did it to me too.”

“Son of a bitch, that’s exactly what we need,” he swore again. “You all right?”

“I’m… alive?” Sam suggested. “I wouldn’t be without River.”

The girl sidled up to Sam’s side, slipping her fingers into his again, glowering up at Dean with an almost murderous intent. “Mine.”

“Right,” he arched a brow, considering her for a moment, then glanced back at Sam. “Trickster said yellow eyes is starting up the apocalypse again, that you open the gate. We’ve gotta do something to stop that.”

“We have a plan,” River squeezed Sam’s fingers. “We’re going to beat him to the – “

There was a crash, and a string of swearing in Chinese, then Jayne Cobb stumbled out of the weeds, hitching the rifle he had slung across his back by a leather strap up higher. He looked angry and displeased, but grinned slightly when he saw the small assortment of people. “Hey there, ladies and gentlemen… fancy meeting you here.”

“Jayne!” Sam ripped his fingers free of River’s again, and threw his arms around Jayne like he had for Dean, lifting him up off the ground as he hugged him, laughing.

“Woah! Put me down, ye great ruttin’ sasquatch!” Jayne yelped, but he _was_ laughing. “Makin’ me look all undignified!”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Glad to see he sent you too, idjit.”

“Yeah, yeah, well… heya, River.” Jayne hesitated, considering the girl with a slightly wary expression, looking her up and down. “Somethin’ seems different.”

“Nothing’s different,” she said, eyes hard and sharp.

“Mmm. Isn’t it? _Christo_.”

The Winchsters both gaped at him, then at River – who shuddered, nostrils flaring as her eyes slipped into full black, overcome by darkness. 

“She was _possessed_?!” Sam gaped at her. 

“Sort of. That buddy of yours said possessions don’t hold right on crazy people, but… Right. Lemme see if I can remember this…” Jayne frowned, and started reciting stilted Latin. “ _Exorcizamus te_ …”

River cried out, burying her fingers in her hair as she shook, dropping to her knees. “No!”

Dean shifted to stand behind her, wishing he had a gun that he could use if he had to. He hated this, this feeling of helplessness, not being useful. But Sam looked even more useless at that moment, as the one _not_ hunter of the three men recited the broken Latin, occasionally catching himself and correcting the pronunciation. Sam looked lost and sort of crushed, confused.

“Sam, wait, please,” River cried, interrupting Jayne. “We can save this still, clear the world, remember, you said a clean slate…”

“You said not with fire,” he backed up, eyes wide.

“ _Sam_ , I was supposed to help you in your time! I’ve been waiting… I was supposed to be the one that helped you! Always! We were going to kill Lilith together, Sam, send the demons to where they were meant to be…”

“ _Ergo draco maledicte et – et section_ ,” Jayne started again, frowning.

“I trusted you,” Sam whispered. 

“We would have made the world a better place, Sam,” she cried, reaching out for him, shaking.

“ _Dominae_.” Jayne finished.

River threw her head back, black smoke billowing from her throat as she screamed through it, living tangible darkness pouring out from her, screaming into the sky, like a buzzing angry furious cloud of tiny creatures, sweeping across the sky and dissipating off into somewhere in the distance. She slumped forward, panting softly, then slowly lifted her head. “…oh.”

Sam dropped to his knees in front of the girl, reaching out to cup her jaw, fingers trembling slightly on her skin. “River? River? Do you hear me?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, eyes half lidded. “All dizzy.”

He laughed softly, pressing his forehead against hers. “Are you okay? It – it didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“She screamed a lot in my head,” she murmured, softly, slipping her arms around his shoulders, fingers curled at the base of his skull. “About how angry she was about having to wait. Her name was Ruby. She loved you once upon a time. But he kept her away, and… and you found Hades and Zeus.” She lifted her head, looking up at Dean and Jayne, where they were both standing there, watching her interact with Sam like they expected her eyes to flare black and for her to go all demon on their asses again. “And got the Trojan Horse out of my noggin.”

Jayne grinned slightly. “This huntin’ stuff ain’t so bad, really.”

“We need to get out of here,” Dean said, reaching his hands down to the pair, managing to not react when both of them took his hands, and tugged them up. “Before yellow eyes shows up.”

“He’s just going to find another way to open the gates,” Sam glanced at Dean. “It might not take one of us.”

“I know,” he nodded. “But we need to get outta here, find Mal, and prevent him from going to hell.”

Sam gaped at his brother.

“Trust me on this one,” he smirked, and clapped his brother’s back. “Besides, Jayne’s been buggin’ me for _weeks_ , pestering about how he wants to get back to you. I think he missed your ass, or something.”

“Hey,” Jayne grumbled.

Sam smirked faintly. 

Dean shaded his eyes with his hand, then pointed at the horizon off to the north. “Is that a town?”

Jayne frowned, looking where he was looking, and nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Better go there, then.” 

They started walking, just trying to get away from the little cobblestone block, which they were all fairly sure was where the demons would be coming once they started coming. As they did, River slowly slipped between Jayne and Sam, tugging them both a little closer, and slipped her fingers into both of their hands. Sam didn’t even react other than to squeeze her fingers a little. _Jayne_ looked at her sharply, like maybe he was expecting her to slash him again, but she just smiled serenely up at him, and murmured, “If you want our _Vera_ , you’re going to have to learn to share.”

Jayne glowered at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine.”

Sam glanced over at him, flushed. “…you’re starting to alarm me a little, Jayne.”

“You’re _all_ sickening!” Dean called back, smirking.

  
 

\---

  
 

The tiny inn they had found in the little town wasn’t much to look at, and considering they’d had to bluff their way in and pretend to have money that they most certainly did _not_ have, it was amazing they’d even managed to get inside at all. Still, there they were in that little shitty room. Dean had fallen asleep in the only chair in the place, a low, once-overstuffed and now just squishy armchair in the corner, and the others were on the bed. 

Sam had settled himself in the centre of the bed, when River had curled up to one side, and after a bit of bravado posing, Jayne had settled on his other side, throwing his arm over Sam’s middle and holding him in place. 

In the little, dusty room, the four of them slept quietly, though Jayne snored a little. 

There was movement against the wall, and a tall man that hadn’t been there a moment before pushed himself off the wall, and headed closer to the bed, peering down at the trio sleeping on the bed in a little puppy pile, arms crossed as he considered them.

“Wake up, soldier.”

Sam’s eyes snapped open, and he gaped up at the man, stunned. “You’re – “

The man smirked, yellow eyes seeming to gleam dully in the darkness of the room. “Nice little harem you have going here, son. Now. We need to talk.”

“Dean – !” he started.

“He can’t hear you,” he smirked, and reached out a hand, expectantly. “Come on. We need to talk.”

Slowly, Sam slipped out of the bed, from between his two lovers, flushed as he shifted right off the end, and stood. The demon was waiting, expectantly, but he just stayed back still, wary.

“Let me show you something.” 

The hotel room seemed to fade away, leaving them standing on the same cobblestone pavilion they’d been standing on before, the wind ruffling Sam’s hair. He flicked his eyes about, looking for any threat, any danger, but there seemed to be nothing of danger there – there was just the stones and a large black hole in the centre, open like a gaping black wound. 

“That wasn’t there before,” Sam murmured, shifting from foot to foot.

“No. One of the others opened it.” The demon smirked, glancing at Sam. “I didn’t need you, son. I didn’t need River. The gate is open, hell has been released, and the apocalypse has begun. But you have a role, Sam. There is still a place for you, in what is going to come. And I need you to be strong for that.”

“I’m not going to play any part in your fucked up plan,” he snapped.

“You will.” He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, smirking slightly when the man flinched, backing up from him. “And your brother, too. You have a place.”

“Get away from me,” he backed up from him. 

“No. _This_ time, you didn’t manage to kill me,” Yellow eyes grinned, broadly. “Big… _big_ mistake, Sam.”

His eyes snapped open, and Sam bolted up, gasping for breath as he tried to stop his limbs from shaking, but it didn’t seem to be working. Every part of his body seemed to have taken on something of a mind of its own, and he was shaking hard. 

“Sammy?” a sleepy Jayne slurred, sitting up a little, arm still curled over the other’s waist. “What happened? Another nightmare?”

“Y-yeah,” he murmured, trembling, letting the other man slowly draw him back down to the bed, curling into him a little. Sam didn’t want to be weak, didn’t want to be seen as someone who couldn’t take care of himself, but everything had apparently gone _sideways_ somehow, and right at that moment, he was pretty sure that if he _didn’t_ have Jayne’s reassuring arm around him, he would have been curled in a little ball, shaking harder. “I think so.”

“Demons are whispering to his dreams,” River murmured, lifting her head from the bed so that she could curl closer to Sam, her head on his shoulder. 

“Well, that’s shitty.” Jayne blinked. “You a’right, Vera?”

“Maybe.” He swallowed. “I’m okay. It’ll be fine. We just… need to find yellow eyes and kill him. Okay?”

Jayne nodded, patting Sam’s stomach. “Sounds great.”

River smiled faintly, and squirmed a little closer to Sam, happily. “Sounds lovely.”

  
 

\---

  
 

Dean hadn’t really thought he’d miss the Serenity and her captain as much as he had – but it was with a deep sense of relief that he climbed the metal gangway, grinning.

The captain of the vessel stood in the doorway, waiting for them, arms crossed. He was dressed like he was about to go into battle again, guns strapped to his sides, brown leather coat hanging off his shoulders as he watched him with a devious smirk. “So this gonna be a normal thing fer ye? Popping in and out of time and space and endin’ up sometimes in my bed and sometimes leavin’ me to sleep with yer baby brother?”

“I think that was something of a one time deal,” he smirked, standing up to just a little piece in front of the man. 

“Oh yeah? Cause I think it might have scarred me for life,” he grinned.

“Scarred _you_ for life? I woke up with _Jayne_ wrapped around me like some kind of… wrapping… thing.” He snorted, then smirked as Jayne clapped his shoulder as he passed him on the gangplank, heading inside. There was laughter, then Sam and River ran along after Jayne, feet slapping against the metal.

Both men turned for a moment, just watching as River threw herself onto Jayne’s back, clinging to his shoulders and neck as she hung off of him, laughing eagerly. Jayne himself actually laughed as he looped his arms under the girl’s thighs, spinning in circles, making her laugh, and Sam darted over to them, plating a fast kiss on Jayne’s lips, then darted up the stairs into the ship proper, leaning over the railing on the first landing as he waited for the others.

“Well, that’s a new one,” Mal smirked, crossing his arms.

“Not that new to me, remember, wakin’ up with Jayne,” he smirked. “I daresay… the three of ‘em will be in Jayne’s bunk.”

The captain snorted, shaking his head. “Good god.”

“So… any chance we can get the hell off this rock?” Dean glanced up at him, grinning sheepishly. “We kinda might’ve snuck out on a hotel bill, and I’d really rather not have the local lynching squad on their way, so…”

Mal barked in laughter, and tugged Dean onto the ship proper, hitting the button to trigger first the door, then the one for the intercom. “Wash! Take ‘er up, take us back into the skies.”

There was a crackle, then Wash said, “Sure thing, cap’n.”

“So… any chance that before we get into the serious shit, and the serious talkin’, and explaining all what happened – and the pretty serious shit that’s _about_ to go down…” Dean set his hand on the wall as Serenity lifted off the ground, steadying himself. “Any chance we wanna follow my brother and his ‘friends’ and head on out to your bunk?”

Mal snorted, but clapped Dean on the back. “We could do that.”

“Oh, one question though…” he glanced at the other, watching his ass without shame as he watched the other climb the stairs ahead of him. “Jayne keeps calling Sam something that don’t make sense… I figured it might have something to do with his life here.”

“Why?” he glanced back at him. “What’s he calling him?”

“Vera.”

The captain actually stopped on the stairs, turning back to face Dean properly, roaring in laughter, leaning on the rails. “He calls him _Vera_?!”

“Yeah, why?” Dean looked a little alarmed. “Is it bad?”

“ _Vera_ ,” Mal smirked, “Is his _gun_. Offered to trade me it for a wife, once. Loves that gun more than life.”

Dean stared at him for a very long minute, then roared in laughter.

 

 


End file.
